The Undying Fire
by Boogum
Summary: It all started when an arrow hit the wrong target. Now Zuko must struggle to come to terms with this new and confusing vision of the world; a world where Avatars offer friendship, good and evil is just a blurred line of grey, and ... he can heal?
1. Blood and Fire

**Blood and Fire**

Pohuai Stronghold was said to be impenetrable. The Yu Yan Archers guarded its perimeter with hawk eyes and even quicker hands, ready to unleash a string of deadly arrows that never missed their mark. Then there were the hundreds of warriors that patrolled the inside of the walls, all of whom had been handpicked for their dedication and skill. Zuko knew this. He'd known this every time he had snuck into the fortress, but he had also learnt long ago how to become one with the shadows and move with the silent stealth of a panther-fox. Not even the Fire Nation's best could keep him out if he really wanted to get in, and in this case the dangers of being captured or killed were definitely worth the risk.

Ever since the storm, Zuko had been unable to pick up the Avatar's trail. This was not the first time such an event had happened, but knowing that the newly promoted Admiral Zhao was also hunting the Avatar did add a level of desperation to the prince's usual eavesdropping excursions. Zuko knew that if he didn't find the Avatar soon, there was a good chance that Zhao would. One ship with a rag-tag crew was nothing compared to an army of soldiers and highly trained archers—a disadvantage that was only made worse when it was announced that no one, not even a banished prince, was being allowed in or out of the area.

Zuko was not stupid. He knew that Zhao had put up the blockade on purpose just to stop him from interfering. He also knew that meant Zhao was confident that the Avatar was indeed somewhere within the vicinity. So Zuko did the only thing that he could; he shadowed his rival in his favoured guise of a blue-masked warrior, watching and waiting for the moment to strike. That was how he discovered that the Avatar had been captured and was currently being held prisoner in Pohuai Stronghold. A lesser man might have given up in that moment, realising how impossible it would be to capture a person who had already been captured, but Zuko had not spent almost three years endlessly searching for the Avatar just to curl up in defeat at his first major setback. He _would _bring the last airbender back to his father and regain his honour, no matter what the cost.

It only took Zuko an hour to come up with a plan. Logic had told him that he had two choices: give up and accept his banishment or infiltrate the stronghold and steal the Avatar for himself. Naturally, he decided to go for option two. He knew from experience that he was quite capable of sneaking into the fortress without the guards noticing. It would not be a stretch to say that he could also sneak someone back out—even such a highly prized prisoner as the Avatar. Not once did he consider involving his uncle or his crew. He knew Iroh would only tell him that his plan was too dangerous, maybe even treasonous; his crew would just get in the way.

So it was that when the moon finally revealed its silvery face, it was a lone figure wearing a blue mask who slipped into the fortress via a supply wagon. Previous expeditions had allowed Zuko to memorise the patrol patterns, allowing him to skirt the more heavily guarded areas, and a natural instinct for making himself unseen did the rest. It also helped that the majority of the soldiers seemed to be gathered in the main square. Zuko soon discovered the reason for this as he scaled the lookout tower and spotted Admiral Zhao addressing the crowd with one of his usual arrogant speeches—no doubt boasting about how he had captured the Avatar.

Behind the permanent grin of the mask, a much more natural smile curved the prince's lips. If only Zhao knew that, even as he stood there congratulating himself, he was unwittingly aiding another to snatch his hard-earned prize right from under his nose. Just imagining the expression on the egotistical jerk's face almost made this whole ordeal worth it; however, Zuko knew better than to stand around wasting time with premature celebrations. The Avatar was still being held captive, and there was a good chance that he himself could still be discovered. He had to focus.

Casting a brief glance over the wall to make sure the lookouts weren't facing him, Zuko darted out from his hiding spot and made his way into the bowels of the fortress, heading for the prison cells. His heart pounded uncomfortably as he wondered if he would be able to find the right cell in time—every second he searched, after all, was another second that he could be caught—but then he realised that all he would have to do was look for the cell with the most soldiers standing outside. Even Zhao wasn't stupid enough to rely solely on stone and metal to keep the Avatar bound.

Zuko's suspicions were confirmed when he came to a door with four firebenders stationed on guard. There was no way that he would be able to take them on all at once without setting off the alarm—not without using firebending himself—and since the last thing Zuko wanted was to proclaim himself as being part of the Fire Nation, he knew he would have to come up with a different strategy. He had his dual dao swords, of course, but that would not be enough. He needed a distraction—something to separate the guards so he could take them out one at a time or at least in a smaller group.

Footsteps sounded from behind him, and Zuko quickly pressed himself flat against the far wall, concealing himself within the shadows. Not two seconds later a soldier in full firebending armour appeared, clutching a coiled chain in his hands.

_Perfect_, Zuko thought with a smile.

He struck without warning, punching the firebender hard in the gut so the man was too winded to make a sound. Quick as lightning, Zuko dragged his gasping victim deeper into the shadows and then wrenched off the man's helmet, ignoring all resistance as he clamped a hand over his mouth. The struggle was over in a second; Zuko drove the hilt of his blade into the man's skull and watched in grim silence as the firebender went limp in his arms. Carefully, he lowered the man onto the ground and then placed two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse.

_Good_, Zuko thought. _He's still alive._

Satisfied that the unconscious firebender was not going to wake up any time soon, Zuko reached down and picked up the discarded length of chain. He tugged on the links, testing its strength and seeing how far it extended. A good size—certainly enough for chaining up four firebending guards. Now all he needed to do was create his distraction.

Before he could question whether his plan would work, Zuko tossed the helmet into the adjoining corridor where the firebenders stood watch. He heard it clang once, twice, thrice on the ground before it eventually rolled to a stop. There was a pause as Zuko listened for the sound of footsteps and he was delighted when only one set moved towards his position. What followed next was a series of spider-like acrobatics, one well-timed dagger throw, a bucket of water, and several unsuspecting firebenders finding themselves hanging from the ceiling like flies caught in a web.

Zuko finished gagging the last firebender and then stalked to the now unguarded cell, body still thrumming with adrenaline. He fitted the key into the lock and opened the door, closing it behind him with a click as he advanced into the room. A familiar boy in orange greeted his vision, suspended by thick chains that bound him in place by all four limbs.

_Got you_, Zuko thought in triumph.

Unsheathing his dao swords, he channelled his strength into the flow of the blades as he moved closer, preparing to strike. The idiot monk started screaming his head off, only to stop as the chains holding his arms captive fell apart with a single stroke. Aang blinked up at him in surprise, perhaps wondering why his—so he presumed—murderer had just unchained him. Wordlessly, Zuko brought his swords down again—this time cutting free the handcuffs locked around the younger boy's wrists, followed by the ones cutting into his ankles. Then Zuko sheathed one of his blades and headed for the door.

"Who are you?" Aang demanded. "What's going on? Are you here to rescue me?"

Repressing the impulse to snap, Zuko simply opened the door and gestured with his sword for Aang to follow. He had already decided before infiltrating the stronghold that it would be too much of a hassle to get the Avatar out if the boy was resisting him. It would be much easier to act like a friend or, at the very least, as if he really were enacting a rescue mission rather than the kidnapping Zuko actually intended. In other words, speaking aloud was out of the question, as was hitting the Avatar over the head with his broadsword to shut him up—much as the thought was tempting.

Zuko's patience was tested to its limit, however, when he discovered that the Avatar wasn't even following him but was instead scrambling around the corridor after what looked like a bunch of half-frozen amphibians. For a moment Zuko was too stunned to react, unable to comprehend such sheer stupidity and _weirdness_. What the hell did the kid want with a bunch of frogs? But then commonsense kicked back in, reminding Zuko that they were on a deadline. He grasped the boy by the back of his cape and dragged him off the other way, ignoring all pleas for them to go back because—according to the whiney cries—his friends needed to suck on those frogs.

_I can't believe this kid managed to elude me_, Zuko thought while guiding his charge towards the sewers. _He's completely mental_.

But he did appreciate the fact that the Avatar was remarkably light on his feet. Dodging the guards was always going to be more difficult with two people instead of one, so it was a relief not to have to deal with a clunking komodo rhino as well. Unfortunately, not even the lightest feet in the world could stop them from being spotted once the alarm was sounded.

_Damn it!_ Zuko thought, even as the lookouts directed the soldiers' attention to the wall where he and Aang clambered up the rope. _Someone must have found the guards!_

Suddenly, the rope was cut and Zuko found himself plummeting to the ground, though a gust of wind levelled out his landing at the last minute. Unsheathing both his blades and knowing they would soon be surrounded, Zuko pointed with his sword towards the gateway and then took off at a sprint, trusting that his companion would have enough sense to follow. A booming voice ordered for the gates to be closed, and it was with a sinking heart that Zuko saw the heavy stone begin to slide inwards, preparing to shut like the trapping jaws of a monster.

"Stay close to me!" Aang called, running up ahead and propelling a group of soldiers out of the way with a powerful wind blast.

Zuko frowned and quickened his pace, but even with all his stamina and speed he could not keep up with an airbender. He grunted as a spear sliced past his face, and then he found himself surrounded by the same group of spearmen Aang had just blasted out of the way. Zuko did not hesitate; he lunged forward in a whirlwind of steel, slashing and hacking at the soldiers, and knocking away spears with what appeared to be effortless ease. Except Zuko knew damn well how much his arms were beginning to ache from deflecting blow after blow, and it didn't look as if he was going to get a respite anytime soon.

His sensitive hearing picked up on something rushing towards him and he side-stepped in surprise as a wave of corporeal air slammed into one half of the spearmen, then he jumped to the other side as another wave took care of the rest. Tightening his grip on his dual swords, he turned his head to see Aang stop in front of him with a make-shift staff in hand. A mutual understanding seemed to pass between the boys as they both realised they were not going to make it through the gates. It was time for plan B.

Instinct told Zuko what was going to happen next, so he simply prepared himself for flight as a gust of wind lifted him off the ground and threw him towards the upper wall. He rolled upon landing and then immediately readied his swords to fight off the soldiers charging towards him; however, before he could even take a swing, legs suddenly locked around his waist and raised him into the air, carrying him over the first gate. Zuko glanced up and saw Aang doing some crazy spinning thing with his stick that was somehow keeping them aloft, but he had no time to ponder the strangeness of the situation further as spears started coming at them from every direction.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko parried and kicked away the spears as best as he could, but his heavier weight combined with his sudden movements seemed to be too much for the younger boy and they both collapsed onto the middle rampart in a heap of bruised limbs. Slightly dazed, Zuko looked up to see two soldiers running at them from the closest watchtower, with more coming at them from the other side. He scrambled to his feet and lunged towards the two on his right while Aang darted off to deal with the others. Seamlessly, they worked together, balancing steel with wind and raw strength with evasive grace as they fought side-by-side, never once leaving a gap for the other to get hurt. Zuko would have laughed at the irony if his situation were not so desperate. Who would have thought that he and the Avatar would make such a good team?

Unfortunately, luck did not remain on their side. A desperate bid to make it over the last wall ended up in flames—literally—and then the two fugitives were surrounded once again. Zuko saw the four streams of fire coming towards them and realised with a grunt of frustration that he would have to break his cover to defend against the attack, but then a hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt and spun him around just as a shield of wind came up to surround them both. That damned little monk had saved him again.

"Hold your fire!"

It was Admiral Zhao. Zuko turned his head sharply, fingers digging into the hilts of his blades as he watched the admiral stop in front of the line of firebenders.

"The Avatar must be captured alive!"

Without pausing to think, Zuko sprung forward and thrust his swords under Aang's neck, positioning the blades so that he could slit the younger boy's throat in one quick swipe. For a moment no one dared move, shocked at this sudden turn of events. Zuko could feel Aang's small body trembling against him, but he paid no heed to that and simply stared at Zhao through the slits of his mask, daring the older man to call his bluff—if it even was a bluff. Zuko wasn't really sure in that moment, half-distracted as he was by the adrenaline pumping through his veins. All he knew was that he was not about to surrender the Avatar up to that underhanded bastard just because they'd been cornered; he'd rather spend the next three years of his life searching for a new master of all elements than do that.

Something in his posture must have tipped Zhao off, because the older man was suddenly giving the order for the gates to be opened.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" Colonel Shinu exclaimed.

"Let them out!" Zhao growled. "Now!"

Zuko heard the creaking jaws of something opening from behind him. Very cautiously, he began to walk backwards with Aang through the gap, not once taking his eyes off Zhao. He knew the man was up to something; however, none of the firebenders made a move as Zuko and Aang stepped out onto the path and then continued to walk further and further out of reach. Somehow, that only unnerved the prince even more. Something wasn't right here. There was no way Zhao would let them go that easily.

"Look," Aang breathed. "The gate is closing."

Zuko said nothing and continued to lead the boy backwards, still holding his blades precariously close to the other's throat. He wasn't about to give up his advantage simply because they were outside the stronghold. He knew Zhao would still be watching. One wrong move and they'd be surrounded all over again, and he had by no means forgot about the Yu Yan Archers.

Frustrated at how long it was taking to get out of range, Zuko threw a glance over his shoulder and was relieved to see they were almost at the crossroads. Just a little further and they could make a break for the woods. He was sure he'd figure out a way to restrain the Avatar after that, though it wasn't going to be easy now that he'd lost his rope. He knew from experience how elusive the airbender could be.

"Woah!" Aang exclaimed. "Look out!"

Startled, Zuko turned his head just in time to see an arrow come spiralling towards him. There was no time to duck, no time to defend; he simply waited for the sharpened tip to strike, knowing it was probably going to be the last thing he would ever feel.

Except the impact never came.

It only took a second for Zuko to realise that his broadswords had been pushed aside and that the small body pressed against his chest was leaning on him a lot more heavily than it had been two steps ago. Before he could really process the significance of these developments, he heard another arrow whirring towards them and quickly rolled out of the way, pulling the Avatar with him. His heart pounded sickeningly when he saw the steal tip of the arrow bury itself into the ground just inches from his face. That had been too close.

"We need to get to the woods," Aang gasped, disentangling himself from the prince.

Zuko nodded and stood up, sheathing his broadswords into the scabbard strapped to his back before reaching down and yanking the younger boy to his feet. Shouts could be heard coming from within Pohuai Stronghold and then the gates were opening again and figures in red burst through the gap like lava oozing from a volcano. Golden eyes flickered with dismay behind a blue mask. Was this ever going to end?

"Hold on!" Aang yelled over the din. "I'll give us some cover!"

Dust and dirt suddenly gathered together to form a cloud-like veil, blocking the two boys from the view of firebender and archer alike. Zuko had no time to be impressed, however, as a hand latched around his wrist and pulled him forward, dragging him at an unnatural speed towards the woods. Only the slight breeze lifting his feet stopped him from falling flat on his face, and he realised that Aang must be using airbending to help him keep pace. It was an alarming—and uncomfortably humbling—discovery. He'd always prided himself on his independence and speed.

Branches snagged at the two as they crashed their way through the trees, though Aang's barrier of wind protected them from taking too much damage. In the distance, Zuko could hear the yells and catcalls of the men hunting them, but either Zhao's warriors took a wrong turn and got lost in the woods or Aang really was that fast, because soon the noises faded and all Zuko could hear was the rustling of leaves and the laboured gasps of his companion breathing.

Suddenly, the barrier of wind stuttered in front of them and Zuko stumbled as his feet dropped to the ground while Aang pitched forward onto his knees, groaning and clutching a hand to his shoulder. Zuko's eyes widened when he saw the metal shaft sticking out from between the boy's fingers.

"No!" Zuko exclaimed, momentarily forgetting his rule to be silent. "Don't pull it!"

But it was too late. Aang wrenched the arrow free with a choked cry and then rolled onto his back, legs curling up towards his chest as he whimpered in pain. Zuko slapped Aang's hand away before the idiot could do any further damage and then crouched down to examine the injury. Blood spurted out from the wound in sticky globs, making it almost impossible to see anything. Zuko let out a small hiss of unease when he realised the arrow had pierced the axillary artery. No wonder there was so much blood.

Aang stared up at him through feverish grey eyes. "Is it bad?" he asked weakly.

Zuko shook his head, not quite trusting himself to speak in that moment. With each drop of crimson he could see his visions of honour and home slipping away. He had no medical herbs on him, no bandages. Nothing but two swords and a mortally wounded Avatar, who, Zuko thought in torn disgust, really was nothing more than a stupid child. A stupid child who had decided to throw himself in the way of an arrow that had never been meant for him.

_Focus!_ a voice said sharply in his mind that sounded remarkably like his uncle. _Don't let your feelings cloud your ability to think!_

Zuko exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Right. Breathe in and out, in and out. Put aside fear. Put aside all emotion. Now come up with a solution to fix this mess.

Golden eyes snapped open and Zuko immediately clamped his hands down on the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. Crimson spilled through his fingers, warm and sticky, and not for the first time did he curse Aang for removing the arrow without first checking to see if it was safe. Just like a naïve, impulsive child. Didn't that kid ever _think_? Then again, he had been chasing frozen frogs.

Zuko's gaze drifted to Aang's grey-tinged face and he couldn't help but notice how small and fragile the younger boy looked, like one of Azula's dolls before she incinerated it to ashes. It was an unnerving image, especially since the prince was well aware of the power the Avatar could wield when pushed. Strange how one arrow could change so much. Of course, because of that same arrow, the Avatar's fate was now resting in his hands, as was Zuko's own chances of returning home. The spirits certainly had a twisted sense of humour. Not that Zuko found anything amusing about his current predicament. Blood continued to pump out of the open gash on Aang's shoulder, no matter how much pressure Zuko applied, and the boy himself appeared to be barely conscious.

Ignoring the steel fingers of panic that squeezed down on his mind, Zuko kept one hand pressed firmly on the wound and then used his free hand to grasp Aang by the wrist, feeling for the boy's pulse. A weak flutter greeted his blood-smeared fingertips, and he paled as he realised he was running out of time. Aang was losing too much blood.

"Damn it!" Zuko growled, reapplying both hands to the wound. "Don't you dare die on me, Avatar!"

His only response was a flicker of grey eyes, as if Aang were simply too weak to do more than blink. Frustration and fear coiled its way through Zuko's veins, spreading through his body with a paralysing venom. This could not be happening. That damned, idiot of an airbender could not be dying. Not now. Not like this. Not when he was so _close_.

"Snap out of it!" Zuko yelled, giving the boy a hard shake. "You're the Avatar, aren't you? So fight! Use your damn powers and save yourself!"

Aang's head lolled to the side, but there were no glowing arrows, no luminescent eyes. It seemed that even the all-powerful Avatar could not stop nature from taking its course, and Zuko was stuck having to watch it all. He gritted his teeth, heart pounding frantically in his chest as he pressed his palms harder against the wound, desperately trying to stop the crimson from spilling out. If only the blood would go back in. If only he could seal up the artery and stitch the skin back together. It would all be alright then. It would all be okay.

"Come on," Zuko whispered, glaring down at the semi-unconscious boy as unseen tears rolled down his cheeks, hidden by the cover of his mask.

So much of his hopes were resting on this child's life. So many dreams. If that heart stopped; if those lungs ceased to breathe—he could already envision what would happen. More years spent on a ship with a mutinying crew and an uncle who just wanted to drink tea all day and play Pai Sho. More ugly ice planes and frozen waters. More darkness. More searching—_always_ searching—and never, _never_ being able to return home.

"No." Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "I won't have it. I _won't_!"

He could still feel the warmth of the Avatar's life force pulsing into his palms, and as he knelt there with his eyes closed, just willing the blood to go back to where it belonged, something stirred to life inside him—a fragile flicker of fire that seemed to spark from the very centre of his being. Like a tiny sun it burned, small at first, but then the flames slowly began to expand as tendrils of heat spread throughout his body, filling him with a radiant energy. He realised that the fire was gathering in his hands, reaching out towards the source of that wounded, pulsing warmth. Trying to connect.

_Fire is life._

The words sprang unbidden to his mind, and though he had no idea where he had heard the phrase, something just seemed to click. Exhaling deeply, Zuko focussed his attention on the bloody gash under his palms and felt a sharp tug on his gut. But no, it wasn't really his gut. More like something had reached into his very essence and was now pulling strands of fire from deep within him to form a bridge to Aang's wound. He could feel pain and blood mixed in with airy whispers, but more than that he could feel the gaping chasm where chi should have flowed in the other boy's body, and which his own burning sun was now instinctively trying to fill.

Zuko's breathing sharpened as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. The sheer energy radiating through his veins was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, but it was also becoming increasingly painful. There was too much tugging, too much pulling. He felt like his soul was being ripped out from him—as if his inner sun was being stripped bare of all its heat, leaving him empty and vulnerable and so terribly cold.

Panicking, Zuko tried to break the threads that linked him with Aang, but it was as if an invisible chain had lashed them together. By the time he finally managed to stop the connection, black dots were swarming before his eyes and he was conscious of a loud ringing in his ears.

When he tried to stand, Prince Zuko passed out cold.

**oOo**

Everything was hurting. Aang groaned and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to gather his bearings. He seemed to be in some kind of clearing of trees and, judging by the pinkish tinge to the sky, it was just after dawn. Shaking his head to clear some of the dizziness, he sat up and saw a man in black sprawled out on the ground beside him. The grinning blue mask glinted wickedly at him, and he gasped as memories flooded back into his mind: Zhao taking him prisoner, being chained in Pohuai Stronghold, the masked warrior coming to rescue him, the arrow, and then—

"My wound!" Aang exclaimed.

He shoved his blood-stained cape aside and examined the spot where he had felt the arrow puncture his skin. Streaks of dried blood covered most of the area, but though his shoulder throbbed and was tender to touch, there didn't appear to be any hole. Eyes widening in surprise, he quickly licked his finger and rubbed away the reddish-brown marks. A patch of rough, barely healed skin revealed itself, looking raw and shiny.

Shaken, Aang let his cape fall back to cover his shoulder and stared down at the masked figure near his feet. He couldn't remember everything that had happened last night, but the hazy images flickering in his mind told him enough to know that he owed the mysterious warrior his life. That still didn't explain how the man had known to rescue him, though, or why he was now lying on the ground with all the appearance of one knocked unconscious.

"Hey," Aang muttered, poking the masked man in the ribs. "You alright under there?"

Masky—as Aang had decided to call him—didn't so much as flinch. Aang frowned and rested his chin on his hands. Maybe the guy was just sleeping; he was definitely breathing, except Aang still felt uneasy. Something weird had happened last night. There was no way an ugly arrow wound like that could just disappear, except somehow it had. Somehow, this mysterious man in the blue mask had healed him.

Aang stared through the hollow slits of the mask, trying to see past the darkness to the person beyond. Impulse made him reach out his hand towards the grinning face, but then he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip as doubt gnawed at him. The monks had told him that one should always respect a person's privacy. This man was obviously wearing his mask for a reason; it would be wrong to breach that trust.

"Ah, one peek can't hurt," Aang decided, brushing aside his concerns. "I'll just make sure he's okay ..."

He gripped the cold wood and pulled—

And immediately regretted his decision.

"No," Aang breathed, stumbling backwards and dropping the mask with a clatter. "No, no, no!"

He felt sick. He felt angry, but more than that he just felt confused. Because there was no mistaking that pale, angular face, nor the red scar that skewed the left half of the teenager's features. It was Zuko—the prince of the Fire Nation, and the same guy who had been hunting Aang since he had first woken up in Katara's arms.

Shaking his head in denial, Aang leapt to his feet and made to bolt through the trees, but then he froze. Zuko might have chased him all over the world with the intent of capturing him, but Masky—Masky who was still Zuko at heart—had come to free him when Aang had thought no one else would. Masky had healed him.

Sighing, Aang turned around and slowly walked back to where Zuko lay unconscious. He sat down on a nearby tree root and hugged his knees to his chest, occasionally throwing wary glances at the prince. Maybe Sokka was right in calling Zuko an angry jerk with a ponytail, but Aang figured the least he could do was hear the older boy out. Perhaps the prince had undergone a change of heart. Perhaps he was willing to help them now.

Perhaps ...

**oOo**

Something warm was touching his face, renewing him with heat and much-needed energy.

_Sunlight_, Zuko's mind supplied.

Yes, that was it. Sunlight. Zuko opened his eyes and was immediately dazzled by the golden beams that streamed through the gaps in the trees. He winced and rubbed a hand over his face, pained by the intensity of the glare. Maybe he'd hit his head. That would certainly explain the sharp throbbing at the base of his skull.

Groaning softly, he turned his face and saw a familiar boy perched on a tree root while hugging his knees to his chest. A frown creased Zuko's brow, but the Avatar did not glance his way.

"You know what the worst part of being born over a hundred years ago is," Aang commented, as if the two of them had been conversing the whole time. "I miss all the friends who I used to hang out with. Before the war started, I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. He was one of the best friends I ever had—" Aang glanced towards Zuko "—and he was from the Fire Nation, like you."

Zuko said nothing. He didn't understand why the kid was telling him this, but then a shy smile tugged at the corners of the younger boy's mouth.

"If we knew each other back then," Aang continued in a warm, hopeful kind of voice, "do you think we could have been friends, too?"

Grey eyes locked with gold, and it was as if a thousand unspoken words passed between them. Then the image of a man sitting on a throne surrounded by flames flickered in Zuko's mind, reminding him of his task. Reminding him of his destiny.

Zuko curled his hand into a fist and suddenly he was back on his feet and sending a ball of flames the Avatar's way. Aang dodged the attack and then leapt up into the trees, jumping from branch to branch with all the speed and grace of a master airbender. Frowning, Zuko dropped his hand back to his side and watched the boy vanish from view, knowing it was futile to pursue him—knowing that he didn't really want to pursue him. Even his fireball had seemed weak, as if the anger needed to channel the attack just hadn't been there.

His jaw tightened and he glared at the space where he had last seen Aang, remembering that shy, stupid smile and the innocent offer of friendship that had come with it. Just like a naïve child.

Zuko turned his back on the trees. "We can never be friends, Avatar," he said flatly.

The Fire Lord had set him a mission. Zuko would not disappoint his father again.

Still, there was one thing that Zuko did not understand. He raised his bloodstained hands to his face and examined his palms, remembering the connection that had surged between himself and the boy. Remembering how the fire within him had reached out to the wound and then tried to fill that gaping chasm inside.

Zuko swallowed and his heart quickened in his chest. "Did I—did I really heal him?"

There was no one to give him an answer, yet the simple fact that Aang had managed to dance through the trees like a leaf on the wind suggested the boy had very much been healed. Zuko wondered if he could talk to his uncle about it, but then he realised Iroh would just ask him too many questions, and how the hell was he supposed to explain that he had broken into Pohuai Stronghold to rescue—no, _kidnap_—the Avatar and then had somehow ended up healing the brat as well? He didn't even know that firebenders could heal. That was supposed to be a waterbending technique, and even then it was rare.

Zuko growled in frustration and threw his hands up in the air. "This is impossible!" he declared to no one in particular.

The whole situation made no sense. In fact, nothing about last night made sense. He would do better to put the matter from his mind. That was what his instructors would tell him; put aside all distractions and just focus on the task at hand. So what if the Avatar had spared his life by taking that arrow for him. So what if he had somehow managed to stop said Avatar from dying with spirits knew what kind of power. It had happened, and now he had to move on.

Zuko sighed and collected his mask from the ground, then headed back to his river boat to change out of his blood-stained clothes. Upon returning to the main vessel, he told his uncle that he was going to bed and was not to be disturbed.

It was a long time before he fell asleep.

* * *

This chapter is heavily based on the episode 'The Blue Spirit', with some of the dialogue being directly quoted from the show. I'm not a fan of rewrites normally, but I felt the botched rescue mission was important enough to explore in full, so there really was no getting around it. That said, I seriously doubt I will follow an episode so closely again.

In regards to 'Masky', I will perfectly understand if you are now gnashing your teeth and screaming "What the heck is she thinking giving Zuko's masked alter ego a ridiculous name like that? Blue Spirit is so much better!" And I would agree. But somehow I don't think Aang is a fan of opera, so I'm afraid he got to pick the nickname. Masky just happened to be the first thing that came to my head. Tragic, I know.

In any case, let me know what you think. Reviews make me happy and happy authors like to write, so really it's a win-win situation. ^_~


	2. Confessions and Omissions

**Confessions and Omissions**

The frog was staring at him. Aang turned his back on the inquisitive amphibian and continued to scrub his shirt and cape clean, dunking the cloth back into the stream when necessary. Right now he didn't even want to look at a frog—frozen or otherwise—for a long, long time. Though, to be fair, it wasn't really the frog's fault that he had been captured, bound with chains, and then finally rescued by one of his most dangerous adversaries. No, that mistake was all his.

"I'm so stupid," Aang muttered, rubbing harder at the red patches mottling his cape. "I should have known Zuko hadn't really changed." Scrub, scrub scrub. "I mean, he's been chasing me all over the world. He's always trying to capture me, and setting things on fire, and—"

The soap slipped out of Aang's hand and was immediately carried away by the current where it bobbed up and down in the water with a taunting kind of glee. Aang made a strangled sound of frustration and threw his clothes in a sodden heap on the rock beside him. It seemed like nothing was going right for him at the moment. Even the stupid bar of soap was against him!

A ribbon of water glided past him, plucking out the foamy bar from the stream and then brought it back towards the shore. Surprised, Aang turned his head to see Katara close her hand around the soap and glance at him with a smile. Instead of grinning in return, as he normally would have done, he simply hugged his knees to his chest and looked back at the stream. There was an awkward silence as he ignored her—even though he could feel her staring at his back—and then she came and sat down beside him.

"Hey," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "What's wrong?"

Aang rested his chin on his knees, frowning at the ripples he could see swirling in the water. "I don't want to talk about it."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Is it the nightmares again?"

He shook his head.

"Then what?"

Aang said nothing. He didn't want to think about what had happened last night, let alone discuss it. For the first time, he wished Katara would just leave him alone.

Katara sighed and picked up his discarded clothes, resuming scrubbing where he had left off. Aang stared at his feet and tried to ignore the wriggly, clenching feeling in his stomach. Try as he might, he could not get his conversation with Zuko out of his head. Just thinking about how quickly the prince had thrown that fireball at him made his heart feel so terribly heavy, and he wasn't sure why. He'd always known Zuko was his enemy. It shouldn't hurt this much that he had been rejected. Except it did. It really did.

"Wait a minute," Katara muttered, distracting the monk from his thoughts. He blinked and saw her raise the orange cape to her eyes. "Are those—are those _blood_ stains?"

Aang froze, his whole body tensing as if preparing for flight. Katara turned a pair of flashing blue irises on him and he squirmed guiltily, feeling like he was being read inside and out. She gasped in outrage.

"They are, aren't they?" she exclaimed, bunching the stained cloth in her fist.

Aang held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Katara, I can explain—"

"You'd better explain!" She poked him hard in the ribs. "Yesterday you said you were just going to visit the herbalist. Now I find you've got blood all over your clothes and—" The fury died in her eyes and she latched her fingers around his upper left arm. "Aang," she breathed, covering her mouth with one hand. "Oh, Aang, what happened to your shoulder?"

Aang glanced down at the discoloured patch of skin where his wound used to be. Now that he'd washed all the blood away it just looked pink and rough, like the gnarled grooves on a tree trunk. He couldn't really complain, though. If Zuko hadn't healed him, he'd most likely be dead right now. Having a scar was a small price to pay.

"Aang," Katara repeated in a low voice, dropping his bloodstained clothes and taking his hands in hers. "What really happened last night?"

Grey met blue, and he found himself trapped by the sheer concern and warmth he could see reflected in her eyes. He exhaled softly, realising he could not keep this secret to himself any longer. At least, not when she was looking at him like that.

"I got caught," he confessed. "Admiral Zhao—you know that mean guy with the huge side-burns who came after us at the Fire Temple?"

She nodded.

"Well, he sent these archers after me, and they were good. _Really_ good. They got me while I was looking for some frogs for you and Sokka in the swamp."

"Right," Katara said, drawing out the word in distaste as she released his hands. "The frogs."

Aang gave a sheepish smile, remembering how upset Katara and her brother had been when they'd realised they'd been sucking on frozen swamp creatures. As Aang had pointed out, however, the frogs had worked. Sokka no longer thought he was an earthbender and the siblings' fevers had gone right down. Aang never did figure out why Katara had been wearing a crown, though.

"Anyway," Aang continued, lowering his gaze to stare at his twiddling thumbs. "The archers brought me back to this big fortress and Zhao locked me up in a cell. I couldn't move; I couldn't even airbend, really. And since you and Sokka were still sick and had no idea where I was, I knew I was as good as dead."

He let out a breath and fell silent for a moment.

"What happened then?" she prompted, watching him closely.

"I—" He swallowed. "A warrior in a blue mask came. He—he rescued me, but then the alarm went off while we were escaping. We had to fight all these soldiers, and—"

Aang's shoulders slumped forward and he again fell silent, though his thumbs moved round and round more frantically than ever. Katara closed her fingers over his hands, halting the nervous motions.

"Tell me," she said softly.

He trembled slightly and his voice was very small when he spoke. "They were going to shoot him, Katara. Just like that. I saw the arrow coming for his head and I didn't think; I just _moved_."

She gasped. "So that's how you got hurt." A crease formed on her brow. "Wait a minute. If you got hit with an arrow last night, why does your wound look so ... patched up?"

Aang sucked in a deep breath. "Because he healed me."

"What?" Katara shook her head, though it seemed she was more confused than disbelieving. "How?"

"I don't know." He frowned and absently touched his hand to his shoulder, feeling the uneven skin under his fingertips. "I was barely conscious when it happened, but I remember warmth. Lots and lots of warmth." A shrug. "Anyway, when I woke up my injury was gone. We parted ways after that, so I came to help you guys."

Katara's frown deepened. "What a strange warrior. I can't believe he'd just rescue you like that and then leave. Did you at least manage to find out his identity?"

Aang was silent for a long moment. "No," he said, almost in a whisper. "I didn't."

She sighed. "That's too bad."

Aang said nothing. His stomach was doing that wriggly, clenching thing again, and he knew it was because he had lied. He didn't even know why he had lied. The masked warrior's identity was no secret to him. He'd seen the scarred face underneath; he'd watched the flames rush towards him after his tentative offer of friendship had been rejected. But a part of Aang wanted to believe that Masky—the silent swordfighter who had freed him and then saved his life—still existed somewhere. A part of him wanted to believe that not everything was so black and white.

"_If we knew each other back then ... do you think we could have been friends, too?"_

A fireball had answered him no, but as Aang ran his fingers over freshly healed skin, he couldn't help but wonder. Maybe his friend could still be found. Maybe it was the scarred, angry face he so often saw that was really the mask. Maybe the real Zuko was buried within, grinning through a swirl of blue and white.

A sad smile curled Aang's lips. He sure hoped so. It would be nice to have a Fire Nation friend again.

**oOo**

Zuko ducked the fireball coming for his face, feeling the heat glide over the back of his neck as he swivelled round to retaliate with a sharp kick. A small jet of flames bloomed forth, but before the attack could get anywhere near his opponent, his uncle stepped forward and brought his hand down in a slicing motion, snuffing the flames out as easily as a candle. Zuko straightened to his full height, indignation tingling through his veins as he glared at the grey-haired man in front of him. How dare his uncle interrupt his training?

"What are you doing, Uncle?" he demanded, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

Iroh gestured for Lieutenant Jee to stand down from sparring and then frowned at his nephew. "I have been watching you, Prince Zuko. You are not fighting at your usual level of skill. Your form is sloppy and your fire attacks are weak."

Zuko opened his mouth to retort, but Iroh held up an admonishing hand.

"No, Nephew, do not argue with me. You and I both know that there is no point continuing this training session if you will not focus. You will only get yourself hurt."

"I am focussed!"

"No, you're not." Iroh's face wrinkled with concern and he placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder, hesitating a moment before speaking. "If there is something troubling you, you know that—"

"There is nothing troubling me!" Zuko snapped, wrenching his shoulder free and turning his back on the older man.

Iroh sighed. "The wise komodo rhino knows when his burden is too much for him to carry alone."

Gold eyes narrowed. "The wise komodo rhino also knows when to mind his own business."

Iroh stroked his beard, frowning thoughtfully. "Is this about Admiral Zhao? Because—"

"I don't care about Admiral Zhao!"

A painful silence followed. Zuko gripped the ship railing in front of him and glared at the ocean, still keeping his back to his uncle. Somehow, even just looking at that endless expanse of blue made him angrier. It was just another reminder of his failure, of his weakness. He tightened his grasp on the metal, jaw clenched with suppressed rage.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh began gently.

"Enough!" Zuko growled, swinging around to face the other man. "I don't need your proverbs, I don't need your tea, and I certainly don't need your _comfort_!"

Without waiting for a response, Zuko stepped away from his uncle and stalked back to his cabin, slamming the door shut behind him. The Fire Nation flag greeted his vision in all its red vibrancy, and he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the image as he let his head fall back with a thud against the door. For a moment he just stood there like that, breathing in and out in deep, calming breaths to try to ease some of the turmoil pressing down on his mind. It didn't help.

Trembling slightly, Zuko opened his eyes and let his fist fly forward in a basic punch. A pathetic puff of flames sprouted forth and then vanished in another instant.

"Damn it!" Zuko groaned, burying his face into his hands.

Just as he had feared, his firebending was indeed weaker. His uncle had accused him of not focussing or using the proper technique, but Zuko knew it was more than that. Ever since he had healed the Avatar, his ability to create fire had been more difficult. He could still feel the power there, waiting to be summoned, but it felt faint and subdued, as if his inner fire had been doused with cold water and was just barely clinging to life. Even creating a simple plume of flame seemed to take extreme effort, and it didn't help that he felt continually exhausted either. He was like a starved plant trying to find the sun, desperate for any kind of warmth and nourishment, but all he ever seemed to find was an endless, empty darkness. It was terrifying.

Still, Zuko had not given up. As soon as he realised what was happening he had returned to his training, hoping that his weakened state was just a temporary phase and could be overcome with dedication and hard work. Now he couldn't help but wonder if that was just wishful thinking on his part. Being outside had helped—he'd certainly felt lighter and more energised—but his firebending was still a joke. He'd be lucky to have a meadow vole run for cover from one of his fireballs, let alone the Avatar and his friends.

Tears of pure frustration stung at Zuko's eyes and he gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the flow of emotion.

"I won't cry," he told himself sternly. "I _won't_ cry."

But still the drops fell, dampening his palms and staining his cheeks with warm trails. He just didn't understand why this was happening to him, and he was afraid. What if he lost his ability to firebend? What would become of him then? He'd already lost his home, his honour, his family. Was he supposed to lose the comfort of his inner fire as well?

There was a knock at the door. Zuko flinched back from cold metal, only to scowl when he heard his uncle requesting permission to enter.

"I don't know why you're asking now," Zuko responded sourly. "Needing my permission has never stopped you before."

A chuckle reverberated from the other side of the metal and then the door started to open. Alarmed, Zuko scrubbed furiously at his face with his hands to hide any trace of his tears, but he wasn't quick enough. Iroh took one look at him and then sighed in a way that Zuko both knew well and hated. Suddenly, the prince found himself being enfolded in a strong embrace, surrounding him with the scent of jasmine tea and old spices. He gritted his teeth and kept his arms clamped firmly to his sides, refusing to respond to the hug. His heart, however, was far from unaffected.

"Zuko," Iroh murmured, clasping the teenager tighter to his chest. "I have always told you not to keep things bottled up, and I would be a poor uncle if I were not willing to listen. Please, tell me what is wrong."

A tremor went through Zuko's body. He didn't want to say anything—didn't want to rely on another to get through the hardships of life when he knew that he should be overcoming them himself. But he was just so tired and scared. So sick with worry. In his heart, he knew that he didn't want to deal with this on his own.

"I don't know what's happening to me," Zuko confessed in a surprisingly small voice. "I—you were right, Uncle. My firebending is weaker, but it's more than that. I—" He swallowed and, in the burrowed safety of his uncle's shoulder, fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "I think I'm losing my ability to call upon my inner fire. It feels so faint, and it _hurts_."

Iroh held Zuko back at arm's length, meeting the tear-filled gold eyes. "How did this happen? When did your symptoms first start?"

Zuko shrugged helplessly. "Yesterday morning, I guess, and I'm not sure how it happened."

As much as he wanted to tell his uncle about his strange healing abilities, he just couldn't. Firebenders were not supposed to heal. Firebenders were fighters. They simply did not heal. Ever. Besides, as understanding as his uncle could be, somehow Zuko didn't think that the great Dragon of the West would appreciate why his nephew had chosen to sneak into a heavily guarded fortress to steal the Avatar, only to then have his firebending abilities almost snuffed out because he'd somehow stopped said Avatar from dying. No, his uncle would not understand at all. Much better to lie.

"I really don't know," Zuko stressed again, averting his gaze so his uncle would not see the deception in his eyes.

Iroh let go of Zuko's shoulders and then frowned to himself, stroking his beard in thought. "Well, I'm not sure how this has happened since we're not in the North or South Pole, but from your symptoms it sounds to me like you are suffering from chi deficiency."

Zuko blinked in surprise. "Is that possible?"

He'd never experienced the sickness before. His uncle had always insisted that they travel around the Earth Kingdom during the months of darkness for the safety of their crew. It was a known fact that firebenders struggled to survive without sunlight and would slowly begin to deteriorate the longer their bodies were denied nourishment from the sun's warmth. That was the one drawback to being able to conjure your own element; the fire inside you was literally tied to your life, as was your ability to manipulate chi. Zuko had heard that intense cold could also weaken a firebender, but he had never worried about that when travelling through the frozen countries, protected as he was by his breath of fire. Still, if this is what chi deficiency felt like, he now felt much more sympathy for the firebender who had got sick the last time he and his crew had scoured the North Pole for the Avatar. It was an exhausting and terrifying experience.

Iroh continued to stroke his beard, tilting his head from side to side as he examined his nephew. "Well, it's either that or you've been poisoned by the juices found in the petals of the rare nisshoku flower, in which case you have about three days left before you die a slow and painful death."

The colour drained from Zuko's face, but he pulled himself together a second later. "Thank you, Uncle," he said dryly. "That is exactly what I needed to hear."

Iroh chuckled and patted Zuko on his arm. "Don't worry, Nephew. There is a simple way to tell if it's chi deficiency that is causing your problems."

"Really? How?"

A smile curved his uncle's mouth. The next thing Zuko knew he was stripped to just a red loincloth and was being forced to stand on the main deck, directly in the path of the afternoon sun. His crew were far too intimate with the prince's temper to laugh, but that didn't mean Zuko couldn't feel their amused glances crawling all over his skin or hear their teasing comments. After an hour of such treatment, Zuko had enough.

"This is ridiculous," he snarled, folding his arms across his bare chest. "Uncle, how long do I have to stand here like this?"

Iroh, who had taken up residence on his favourite chair, now waved his fan lazily to and fro. "The best way to restore a firebender's chi levels is by absorbing sunlight through direct contact with the skin. We are simply speeding up that process." He smiled at his nephew's disgruntled expression. "I did tell you that you could lie down if you got uncomfortable, but you didn't want to."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "I am not going to lie down on this deck."

"Why not? I hear it's very relaxing. Just like sunbathing on the beach."

A growl and rather a lot of flames was all Iroh got in response. For a moment nephew and uncle just stared at each other, and then Zuko's mouth twitched into a pleased grin.

"Uncle, did you see that?" Zuko exclaimed, forgetting all about his previous frustration. "I managed to use the breath of fire! And the flames were actually hot!"

Iroh closed his fan and took a sip of his jasmine tea. "Well, it looks like we can rule out nisshoku poisoning."

**oOo**

Two more days passed before Zuko sensed that his firebending abilities had returned to normal. In that time, he did little but laze about in the sun and have the occasional spar with Lieutenant Jee, Nozomi and Kan—the only firebenders on the ship who were brave enough to train with the prince. Normally, such tame pursuits would have sent Zuko into a restless fit of rage, but Zhao was still not letting any ships in and out of port, so there was not much else Zuko could have done unless he wanted to hunt for the Avatar on foot. His uncle, of course, had been delighted with the forced mini-vacation and had decided to make the most of it.

"See, Prince Zuko," Iroh commented on the third day, smiling as he poured his nephew a cup of tea. "A moment of quiet is good for your mental well-being."

Zuko said nothing and raised his cup to take a sip, only to have the scalding liquid splash in his face as something heavy rammed into the ship. "What the—" he growled, wiping the tea from his face.

Exchanging a brief glance with his uncle, Zuko stood up and made his way to the main deck. His eyes narrowed when he spotted a woman making her way across the deck on a large creature he did not recognise. When he heard that she was looking for a stowaway, he was even less impressed.

Zuko strode forward. "There are no stowaways on my ship," he told her curtly.

In response, the woman's beast ripped away a part of the deck with its teeth and then threw the chunk of metal directly towards him. Zuko ducked, as did the rest of the crew, and then he glared back at the woman, unable to believe her impertinence. She, however, was paying no attention to him and it was with great astonishment that Zuko saw a man emerge from the hole the creature had just created. Clearly terrified, the man started running for his life, but then a long, pink tongue darted out of the creature's mouth and hit the man in the neck. The stowaway keeled over in an instant.

"He's paralysed," Zuko observed in astonishment.

"Only temporarily," the woman responded, leaping off the beast and picking up her immobile burden. "The toxins will wear off in about an hour, but by then he'll be in jail and I'll have my money."

She turned and dumped the man on the creature's saddle, then prepared to climb up herself.

"But how did you find him on my ship?" Zuko demanded.

The woman glanced over her shoulder with a smile, giving a fond pat to the creature's flank. "My shirshu can smell a rat a continent away."

Iroh raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Well, I'm impressed," he observed, and watched as the woman leapt back onto her shirshu and raced off into the distance with a flick of her whip. A small grin tugged at his mouth. "_Very_ impressed."

Zuko scowled. One of these days that old man was going to make him sick.

Someone coughed from behind them. "Uh, Prince Zuko."

Zuko turned and saw Nozomi clutching his firebender helmet in his hands, looking a little nervous. "What?" the prince snapped.

Nozomi fidgeted with the helmet. "We were just wondering what you wanted us to do with, uh—" he gestured to the gaping hole where the stowaway had been hidden, as well as the metal slab that had been torn away from the deck.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. Right, the damage. "We'll need to make repairs." _Again_, his mind added. "Take the head engineer with you ashore and purchase whatever he says we need to fix the deck. Hire some extra helpers if it comes to that. I don't care about the cost; I just want this ship ready to move by the time Zhao lifts the ban."

"Yes, sir!"

"Better take Kan and Tomoki with you as well," Iroh advised. "Colonel Shinu and his men have yet to conquer all of the area surrounding Pohuai Stronghold; not everyone will look kindly upon the Fire Nation, nor wish to help us with our problem."

Zuko nodded at Nozomi to show that he agreed with this assessment; it was sound logic, even though he was also certain that the Earth Kingdom traders wouldn't turn away a bag of gold, regardless of what nation's symbol was stamped on the front. If anything, the greedy extortionists would just raise the price to try and get even more money out of their Fire Nation customers. It had happened before, and while Zuko could have threatened his way out of paying altogether—and did indeed haggle until the fee was lowered to a more reasonable price—it was not in his nature to abuse his position in that way, knowing that it was people's livelihoods at stake. Besides, he and his crew did not have the luxury of being able to always rely on Fire Nation aid if things got ugly. It was one of the many drawbacks of being a banished prince; often, he was just left to his own devices.

Nozomi bowed to both men and then marched off to carry out his orders. Zuko watched until the firebender had passed from view before his gaze flicked back to hole gouged into the deck. A crease formed on his brow.

"How did a stowaway even get on the ship?" he mused aloud.

They had a patrol system in place to avoid just this scenario, and while Zuko was capable of slipping past the watch when he chose, other people were certainly not allowed to do so—especially not some Earth Kingdom peasant. His crew might be a motley lot, but he still expected them to do their jobs properly. Speaking of which—

"Where is Lieutenant Jee?" Zuko demanded, raising his voice loud enough for everyone on deck to hear.

One of the spearman who had been standing near the prince flinched and almost dropped his weapon, no doubt startled by the sound of that commanding tone. Zuko stared at him pointedly until the man stammered that he would go find the lieutenant right this minute, with much bowing and sirs. Once uncle and nephew were alone again, Iroh gave Zuko one of his side-long looks.

"Perhaps I should call for more te—"

"Don't even start with the tea, Uncle!" Zuko snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "Contrary to what you think, it is not the solution to everything."

Iroh gave a good-humoured smile. "You say that now, but that's because you are not enjoying the relaxing influence of a nice cup of jasmine tea."

Zuko closed his eyes in exasperation. Spirits grant him patience.

He was still bemoaning his uncle's obsession with the drink when he heard the sound of a man clearing his throat. The prince straightened, pushing all thought of annoying uncles and tea aside, and turned to face the newcomer; he was not surprised to see that it was Lieutenant Jee.

"You wished to speak to me, sir?" Jee asked.

"Yes," Zuko said bluntly, "I want to know how a stowaway got on the ship. He was hiding in the hold in one of the empty supply barrels."

Jee glanced at the gaping hole in the deck, then at the metal slab some of the crew were currently trying to shift. "Well, I can only assume that he must have slipped past the guard, and—"

"Exactly!" Zuko interrupted. "Make sure it doesn't happen again. I won't have my mission to capture the Avatar jeopardised by some stowaway criminal."

Jee's jaw tightened a fraction, and for a moment the two firebenders stared at each other, as if sizing the other up. It was true that they had reached a better understanding during the storm, but that didn't change the fact that the lieutenant was an outspoken man who did not appreciate being asked to do more than what he considered reasonable, nor did it change Zuko's own intolerance of what he deemed his crew's incompetence and excuses.

"Of course, Prince Zuko," Jee said with a slight bow. "We'll be more thorough with our inspections next time and increase the guard while at port."

"Thank you," Zuko said with exaggerated politeness, and then he turned to face his uncle.

His uncle who was now holding out a cup of hot jasmine tea for him.

Zuko smacked his palm against his forehead. The motion made something slip out from his sleeve, and he blinked as he saw that it was the waterbender girl's necklace. He forgot that he'd strapped it around his wrist for safekeeping.

"Your tea, Nephew," Iroh prompted.

"Right," Zuko muttered, absently accepting the cup.

His gaze drifted to the harbour where he had seen the bounty hunter disappear, and he frowned as he thought back to the strange creature she had been riding. On his wrist, the pendant continued to glint in a sparkle of blue.

**oOo**

Later that night, Zuko sat in his cabin and pondered over what he was going to do next. Now that he was back to his usual fighting capacity, he found himself itching to get moving again. Unfortunately, four days stuck at port had well and truly made the Avatar's trail go cold. It could take days, maybe even weeks, to track the elusive monk's position again—days that Zuko knew he did not have. However, seeing the way that bounty hunter had captured the stowaway had given him an idea.

With Zhao still watching him and his crew like a hawk, Zuko knew that there was no way he would be able to slip past the blockade using his main vessel. The steamboat could—and had—sneaked through unnoticed, but it was not designed for long distance travel, nor would it fare well on deeper waters. The komodo rhinos were out because they would attract too much attention, and that left Zuko with only one choice: he needed to find that bounty hunter.

The woman had said her shirshu tracked by scent. Zuko did not have anything of the Avatar's, but he did still have the waterbender's necklace in his possession. He wasn't even sure why he'd held on to the pendant the second time—it certainly hadn't helped him back at the riverside when he'd used it to blackmail the girl—but now he simply congratulated himself on his foresight. He'd seen how fast the shirshu could run; it would be easy enough to catch up to his quarry if the creature was using the necklace to track the girl's scent, and wherever she was, the Avatar and her brother were sure to be as well. It was a foolproof plan.

Zuko's eyes narrowed a fraction and he stared down at the necklace in his hand, absently running his thumb over the carvings etched into the pale blue stone. Yes, it was a foolproof plan, so he couldn't understand why he felt so unsettled. Luck was finally on his side again; he had his firebending back, and now he had a way to track and capture the Avatar, for if the boy resisted him he could just get the bounty hunter to use her pet on him and paralyse the kid. There was no way the plan could fail, no way _he_ could fail, and yet—

"_If we knew each other back then ... do you think we could have been friends, too?"_

Zuko tightened his grip on the necklace. In his mind, he saw a boy wearing an orange cape bleeding in his arms, looking so fragile and small, so young and defenceless. Then the flames lighting his room went dead and he saw only darkness.

* * *

The part with June is based on a scene taken from the episode 'Bato of the Water Tribe'. Most of the dialogue from that scene has also been directly quoted from the show.

On a more personal note, I'd like to thank all the readers who reviewed. You did indeed make me a happy author, who very happily managed to write a chapter much faster than she thought she would. I can't promise rapid updates like this all the time, but I will certainly try my best to update as quickly as I can. ^_^


	3. Confrontation

Colonel Lazy: I couldn't reply to your unsigned review, so I'll just say it here. I use UK spelling, so paralysed is indeed spelled with an 'S'. I know it's confusing. ^_~

That said (and this goes for anyone), if you ever do see a typo, please do let me know so I can go back and fix it. Not using a beta reader means I can update faster, but, alas, my editing skills are not perfect. You'll be doing me a huge favour if you help me eradicate the dreaded typos!

* * *

**Confrontation**

It didn't take long for Zuko to track down the bounty hunter. An attractive woman riding a shirshu was not an image that was easily forgotten—or so his uncle Iroh claimed. As such, with a few questions here, a little bit of intimidation there, Zuko soon found himself striding into a seedy tavern and demanding the woman's service as payment for the damage she had inflicted on his ship. The bounty hunter, whose name turned out to be June, did not seem too impressed with this plan; however, once Iroh suggested that they would also pay her with her weight in gold, she quickly came around to their way of thinking. At least, as soon as it was decided that they would give her the old general's weight in gold instead.

Zuko would have been more annoyed that he and his uncle had been out-manoeuvred by what he sourly termed in his less charitable moments a piece of mercenary filth, but the woman was willing to help, and in the end that was what really mattered. He could have passed on the awkward shirshu ride that followed, though.

Of course, it was his uncle Iroh's fault. The ex-general had three great weaknesses: tea, Pai Sho, and women. Unfortunately, Zuko had forgot about that last one when he let his uncle take the middle position on the shirshu's harness. An hour later, Zuko was wishing that he had left Iroh back on the ship and that he himself was deaf, blind, and maybe dead too. At least then he wouldn't feel so mortifyingly embarrassed or have to listen to his uncle try to flirt with a woman who was at least half the old man's age.

"Uncle, please!" Zuko hissed, some time after they had passed through Makapu Village and come across the fortune teller. "For the love of Agni, stop making a fool of us both and let the woman do her job. Remember, this is not a pleasure trip!"

"You're right," Iroh agreed. He glanced over his shoulder at Zuko, and a crafty smile curved his lips. "But when business comes in the form of a beautiful bounty hunter with a taste for dangerous living, you don't waste the opportunity."

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. Spirits, this was a nightmare!

"Nyla is getting twitchy," June observed, either not hearing or simply choosing to ignore the conversation happening behind her. "We must be getting closer."

"Good," Zuko muttered.

The sooner they caught up to the Avatar, the better. Any more of having to listen to his uncle's attempts to woo their guide and he was quite certain that he would be sick, dignity be damned. Zuko could only hope that the Avatar was having just as much of a horrible time.

He had no idea just how accurate that bitter wish was.

**oOo**

"This is the map to our father!" Sokka cried. "You had it the whole time? How could you?"

Aang lowered his head, unable to meet that accusing glare.

Sokka clenched his hands into fists, crushing the map between his fingers. "Well, you can go to the North Pole on your own." He turned his back on the younger boy. "I'm going to find Dad."

Bato frowned. "Now, Sokka, I think you should—"

"Katara, are you with me?" Sokka interrupted, glancing back at his sister.

Aang quickly raised his head, his heart thumping in a sickening tattoo against his chest as he met Katara's eyes. For a moment the two just stared at each other, and he could see in those ocean-blue irises how torn she was; how much she genuinely cared about him and wanted to be there for him, even if he had betrayed her trust. Hope flared in his chest, small and fragile, but then Katara turned to face her brother.

"I'm with you, Sokka."

Something cold settled in Aang's stomach. Without a word, the two siblings and Bato began making their way back towards the abbey, leaving Aang standing alone by the boat that had just minutes ago unified them in their moment of ice-dodging triumph. He wanted to call out to his friends—to say he was sorry and that he was so deeply ashamed of what he had done—but the words got stuck in his throat. Aang knew that he had made a terrible mistake; he also knew that Sokka and Katara had every right to be angry with him. He had denied them the chance to see their father because of his own petty selfishness and fears. There was no way he could expect them to stay after that.

Sighing, Aang sat down on the sand and hugged his knees to his chest. "I'm so stupid," he muttered.

First Zuko, and now Sokka and Katara. It seemed that he drove everyone away. He wouldn't be surprised if Momo and Appa rejected him next. He'd probably deserve it too. No one wanted to be friends with a liar, and that was all he seemed to be of late. Monk Gyatso would be so disappointed.

Tears stung at Aang's eyes, and he hugged his legs more tightly to himself as he watched the waves lap against the shore. He couldn't believe that Sokka and Katara were really leaving. They'd been through so much together, but now he would have to travel to the North Pole and learn waterbending alone. No more sarcastic comments from Sokka. No more bright smiles and comforting hugs from Katara.

"Katara," he sighed, voice taking on a wistful lilt as he thought of the girl with the umber-tanned skin and big blue eyes.

It seemed like only yesterday that he had given her the necklace he had made out of flowers and Sokka's fishing line. Of course, Sokka had demanded the necklace be dismantled not long afterwards—catching fish so they wouldn't starve, Sokka had declared, was far more important than girly trinkets or looking pretty. Still, Aang had taken comfort in the fact that Katara had liked and worn the necklace. It had given him hope that maybe, just maybe, she would come to like him too.

Except there was no hope of that now.

"I am such an idiot," he groaned, burying his face into his knees.

A high-pitched chittering sounded from behind him and he turned to see Momo swoop down onto his lap.

"Hey, Momo," Aang greeted, scratching behind the lemur's ears.

Momo chittered again and scrambled up to perch on Aang's head. A small smile tugged at Aang's lips, but it faded an instant later. Sighing, he got back to his feet.

"Come on, Momo," he said, dusting the sand off his pants. "Let's go get Appa."

_And say goodbye to the others_, he thought, but he didn't say that aloud.

This was one parting he was not looking forward to.

**oOo**

Not long after Aang had made his reluctant goodbyes, another group of travellers passed through the abbey. The nuns saw a fierce looking woman riding a horrible beast, along with an elderly gentleman and a young man with a scar. The travellers did not stay long, but the nuns managed to ascertain that the young man was using a necklace on the beast to track the Avatar. Frightened, the Mother Superior wasted no time in tracking down Aang to warn him. Unfortunately—at least for the Avatar and his friends—by then it was already too late.

"We're getting very close," June observed, clutching the reins tightly in her hands.

Zuko said nothing and kept an eye out for any trace of blue. Suddenly, the shirshu dashed through the trees and leapt off a small ridge, planting them directly in front of two alarmed Water Tribe teens. There was no sign of the Avatar.

Eyes wide, the brother and sister—Sokka and Katara, Zuko thought their names were—started backing away slowly as the shirshu advanced upon them, boxing them in against the wall. Zuko gritted his teeth. Where was that damned monk?

"So this is your girlfriend," June remarked, tugging the shirshu to a halt. "No wonder she left. She's way too pretty for you."

Zuko ignored the bounty hunter's comment and jumped down from the saddle. "Where is he?" the prince demanded, barely keeping his temper in check as he marched towards the two Water Tribe siblings. "Where's the Avatar?"

"We split up," Sokka said, stepping protectively in front of Katara. "He's long gone."

Gold eyes narrowed. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Pretty stupid," Sokka said with a smirk, and then he tugged on Katara's hand. "Run!"

Zuko swung around to give chase, but before the siblings had taken half a dozen steps, Nyla's tongue flicked out and hit them both on the back. Immediately, the young teens keeled over onto their stomachs, completely paralysed. Satisfied that they weren't going anywhere, Zuko glowered up at his uncle and June.

"What are we supposed to do now?" he demanded.

He had been counting on the necklace to lead him to the Avatar through the girl's scent. He should have known it would not be so easy. Clearly, the spirit of luck was not on his side today.

"It's seeking a different scent," June answered, urging her shirshu forward. "Perhaps something that the Avatar held."

A roll of parchment slipped free from Sokka's pack, attracting Nyla's attention.

"That's it," June said with a smile. "We've got the Avatar's scent."

Zuko nodded and then reached down to haul Katara up by her waist, tossing her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of grain.

"Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly, even though her body remained limp in his arms. "What do you—put me down!"

"Get your hands off my sister, you jerk!" Sokka yelled, among other less flattering things.

Zuko ignored them both.

"What are you doing with that girl, Nephew?" Iroh asked, frowning at this strange proceeding.

"Bait," Zuko responded, keeping an arm firmly around Katara's thighs so that she wouldn't slip. "Just in case something goes wrong again."

"My, my," June said with a wry smile, "I never knew you were such a romantic."

Zuko scowled at the older woman. He really was getting sick of her constant teasing. He was a prince, not some silly peasant boy she could mock at will. Instead of making a snippy retort, however, he carried his burden over to the shirshu and dumped Katara unceremoniously onto the saddle. The girl glared at him with an icy fury that could have frozen his blood and burned him to cinders in a second, but Zuko remained unmoved. He'd faced far more threatening glares in his lifetime; he was not about to be intimidated by a poorly skilled waterbender who could do no more than blink at him.

Ignoring the girl's reproachful looks, Zuko crossed over to where Sokka was still lying flat on his stomach and then picked up the boy just as he had Katara. Sokka was heavier than his sister—and a lot more vocal about being held by the prince of the Fire Nation—but Zuko still had no trouble carrying the younger boy back to the shirshu. Soon there were two Water Tribe teens glaring at him from the saddle, but Zuko paid little heed to either.

"Let's go," he ordered, snatching the map off the ground and seating himself back behind his uncle.

June flicked her whip in a sharp jab at Nyla's flank and then they were off again. A muffled cry from behind him had Zuko looking around to see the girl nearly slip off the shirshu from the momentum. With lightning quick reflexes, he grabbed at the back of her robe, keeping her in place with a strong grip. She still glared at him, but then he wasn't expecting her gratitude.

"Hey, Angry Jerk! A little help here would be nice!"

Zuko shifted his attention to her brother, who was now precariously perched on the edge of the saddle. Narrowing his eyes a fraction, Zuko reached over and pulled Sokka back into a safer position. Then he gave the boy a warning glare.

"You watch your mouth, peasant," Zuko said sharply, "or next time I'll let you fall."

Sokka mumbled something under his breath, but he apparently took the hint and didn't antagonise the prince any further. Katara also seemed to be resigned to her fate, which allowed Zuko to watch over his immobile charges in peace. Or, at least, as much peace as he could gain when travelling on a shirshu running at full speed with his uncle, an ill-mannered bounty hunter, and all the while having to alternate between stopping one or the other of the Water Tribe siblings from falling off the saddle.

Needless to say, Zuko was not in a good mood by the time they got back to the abbey. So, when the Avatar showed up and inadvertently knocked them all to the ground because the shirshu thought it would be fun to rear up on its hind legs to reach the floating boy, Zuko's ire was only increased. He swore to himself in that moment that he was not going to let the little brat get away from him this time. His tortuous hunt for the airbender was going to end today.

"You're mine, Avatar!" Zuko growled, flipping back to his feet and sending a volley of fireballs the boy's way.

Aang swirled his glider back into a staff, diffusing the attack, and then crouched into a defensive position. "What have you done to my friends?" he demanded.

Distracted by the thought that the siblings might have got injured, Zuko glanced over his shoulder and saw that someone—no doubt the nuns—had dragged Sokka and Katara's limp forms to the far side of the abbey to keep them out of the thick of battle. As far as he could tell, the two still could not move but were otherwise unharmed. On the other side of the courtyard, June and her shirshu were fighting the Avatar's bison. His uncle was lingering near the perfume barrels.

Zuko glared back at the Avatar. "I haven't done anything to your friends," he retorted a little defensively. "They're just paralysed with shirshu venom."

To his surprise, Aang's face split into a relieved grin. "Oh, good. I didn't think you would hurt them, but—"

"Wait, what?" Zuko exclaimed, momentarily dropping his offensive stance as he frowned in confusion.

Aang shrugged and stood up to his full height. "Well, I realised from all the encounters we've had that you've never really tried to hurt us. Thrown a lot of fireballs maybe, but it didn't seem like you actually wanted to, you know, _burn_ anyone."

Zuko just blinked. Was this kid insane?

"Anyway, I thought we could come to some kind of truce," Aang continued, quite heedless to the stunned glare he was receiving. He looked at Zuko hopefully. "It'd be great if you could give Katara her necklace back as well. I know it's important to her, and she really misses it."

For a moment Zuko just stared at the boy in front of him with a dazed sort of incredulity, unable to comprehend what he was actually hearing. Then he realised he was being distracted—_again_—and just like that a switch turned on in his mind and his blood was boiling with rage. He was _not_ going to let this stupid kid get in his head with his friendly words and—and whatever it was that the Avatar was trying to do.

Snarling in frustration, Zuko brought his hands back up into a firebending stance. "Shut up and fight!" he snapped, and lunged forward with fire blossoming at his fingertips.

Aang dodged the attack and held his palms up in an appeasing gesture. "Wait, Zuko! I don't want to fight you!"

"Too bad!" Zuko retorted through gritted teeth, creating fiery daggers in both hands and slashing at the boy's face. "Because I want to fight you!"

Aang side-stepped and parried Zuko's daggers with his staff, then let out a yelp as he almost lost his balance and fell into an open well. He jumped over the hole and took up another defensive stance, holding his staff out like a shield.

"Please, Zuko," Aang begged, ducking a stream of fire. "I don't want to fight! Can't we just—"

"_Shut up_!"

Zuko slashed through the wooden planks that framed the well and advanced upon the younger boy, smoke curling from his nostrils with the intensity of his fury. Aang's eyes widened and he tried to leap up onto the abbey roof to put some distance between them, but Zuko stopped him with a ruthless axe kick that trailed in a wall of flames, forcing the younger boy back.

"I don't think so, Avatar," Zuko said with dangerous softness.

Aang made a strangled noise of exasperation. "Listen, Zuko—" He darted under the prince's arm to narrowly avoid being punched with a fireball to the head. "I know you're angry, but—"

Zuko growled and brought his foot down in a powerful fire bomb, forcing Aang to roll back with a gasp as an inferno of flames burst up from the impact.

"Hey!" Aang cried indignantly, bounding back to his feet and glaring at the firebender. "Would you stop trying to burn me to a crisp for just one second so I can talk to you!"

"I'm not here to talk!" Zuko retorted, retaliating with a series of quick jabs that had the younger boy dodging and ducking in a bizarre dance that would have been comical were it not for the seriousness of their situation. "Now stop jumping around like an idiot and _fight_!"

"No!" Aang side-stepped a missile of flame. "I won't fight you!"

Zuko gritted his teeth. "Then you're a fool!"

With raw grace, Zuko dropped to the ground and performed three reverse roundhouse kicks in succession, starting off low to shake Aang's balance, then sweeping his leg around from the middle, and then finally lunging up in a high, spinning kick that aimed for the head. Aang managed to evade all three kicks, but the arcs of fire that streamed up and around Zuko in a shadow of the forms were less easy to dodge. In desperation, Aang brought his arms down in a great gust of wind, parting the flames as if they were water, and shoving the prince back several paces from the force. Zuko dug his feet into the ground to regain his balance.

"So you _can_ fight back," he observed with a twisted smile.

Aang shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."

Gold eyes flashed with barely concealed rage. "Well, you're just going to have to because I'm not going to hold back!"

Flames curled around Zuko's fists, forming gloves of fire as he charged towards the younger boy. Aang brought his staff up, blocking the blows and ruffling them both with the echo of wind that surged between them. Growling in frustration, Zuko swung his arm around in a back-handed punch, but Aang checked that too and then used the momentum to push Zuko in the stomach with his staff, sending the prince stumbling backwards.

"Stop this!" Aang yelled, lowering his staff. "We don't have to fight each other!"

"Enough!" Zuko snarled. "The Fire Lord has ordered me to capture the Avatar, and that is what I am going to do!"

Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Zuko breathed in deeply and moved his hands in a circular motion around his body, gathering his energy into a single, formidable attack. His eyes locked with Aang's, grim and unforgiving, and then he thrust his arms outward, unleashing a powerful ring of flames that closed in on Aang like blazing chains pulled tight. Grey eyes widened with dismay, and Zuko's own heart quickened a beat as he realised the boy wasn't raising his staff to deflect the attack with airbending.

Why wasn't he raising his staff?

Zuko paled as he saw the flames creeping closer, threatening to tear through orange and yellow fabric to the tender flesh underneath. Suddenly, an image flashed before his eyes of a young boy kneeling on a hard arena floor, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked up into his opponent's face.

"_Stand up and fight, Prince Zuko!"_

"_I will not."_

"_Coward! Will you not fight for your honour?"_

"_Please, Father. I meant no disrespect. I am your loyal son."_

"_You _will_ learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher."_

Zuko gasped and stared at the small boy in front of him. In his mind, he could clearly see that innocent face becoming twisted and bloody as fire seared through tissue and membrane with sickening ease. With a half-strangled growl, he held his hands palm-up and called the blazing ring back towards him, extinguishing the fire with a downward stroke of his arms. Shakily, he lowered his hands back to his side.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Zuko shouted hoarsely, taking a half-step towards the younger boy. "Why didn't you block the attack?"

Aang let out a small breath. "Because I knew you wouldn't hurt me."

Zuko's jaw dropped. "Do you mean to tell me that you did that on purpose?" he hissed, barely containing the flames trying to escape his clenched fists.

Aang nodded.

"You idiot! Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"But you didn't kill me," Aang pointed out, not quite able to suppress a grin. He held his arms up as if to form make-shift wings. "Look, you didn't even singe my clothes."

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "Make no mistake, Avatar. I will not go easy on you again!"

Summoning his fire daggers back to his hands, he made to lunge forward when a large, fluffy tail thumped down in front of him, making the prince leap back in alarm. He glanced up to see a ten ton bison glaring down at him with bared teeth, preparing to attack.

"No, Appa!" Aang cried, shoving Zuko out of the way and stepping in front of the bison.

Before Zuko could react, a venom-coated tongue flicked past him and hit the Avatar squarely on the back. Zuko's eyes widened and he watched as if in slow motion as the monk faltered in his steps, limbs seizing up with a puppet-like rigidness, before he finally fell to the ground with a dull thud. Appa let out a roar and bounded forward to attack the oncoming shirshu, but Zuko remained where he was, half-frozen in shock. The Avatar had just saved him again.

"Why?" he found himself asking. "Why did you protect me?"

Grey eyes locked with gold, and though Aang was now paralysed from head to foot, he managed to give a tremulous smile.

"Because you saved my life," Aang said weakly, his voice half-choked by the toxins surging through his blood. "You healed me even though I was your enemy. I can't just forget that."

Zuko swallowed hard. He didn't know how to respond to that.

"_Aang_!"

The screams came from behind, and Zuko turned in surprise to see a wave of greyish liquid come rushing towards him. He barely had time to react before the waterbender released her hold on the liquid, letting it wash over the two boys and drenching them with an overwhelming scent of perfume. Zuko rubbed at his stinging eyes, half-stumbling from the impact.

"No!" a voice yelled that sounded a lot like his uncle's.

Steadying himself, Zuko looked up to see June fall in an immobile heap on top of his uncle. That was when he noticed the shirshu coming straight for him, wild in its movements and making enraged sounds of panic from all the scents distorting its senses. Zuko gasped and tried to roll out of the way, but something still lashed against his cheek and his body suddenly began to shut down, slowing his blood and numbing all feeling in his limbs. His back hit the ground—though he did not feel the impact—and then he found himself staring up at an evening sky. He blinked once, twice, but he could not move. He was paralysed.

Zuko breathed in deeply, trying to calm the panic pressing down on his mind. Vaguely, he was aware of footsteps coming towards him and then a girl with umber-tanned skin and ocean-blue eyes peered down at him with an unreadable expression on her face. He watched her warily, wondering what she would do, but she simply reached down and uncoiled the necklace that had been wrapped around his wrist.

"I'll be taking this back now," she said, straightening to her full height.

Without a word, the girl walked away to join her friends, leaving him staring at an empty expanse of sky. He could hear the younger teens talking and then the nuns waved a small bottle under the Avatar's nose, allowing the younger boy to regain his mobility. Zuko gritted his teeth and willed his body to move, but his limbs remained numb and motionless. A part of him wondered if he could call upon his strange fire healing to remove the toxins in his blood, but he immediately recoiled from the idea, remembering how cold and empty he had felt after the last time he had healed someone—how fragile and weak his firebending had become. No, if he could help it, he would never use that power again. Still, he didn't want to remain in such a defenceless position right now either.

Another face appeared before his vision and Zuko bit back a growl when he recognised the arrow tattooed onto the kid's forehead.

"Hey," Aang said softly.

"Come to gloat?" Zuko muttered, averting his gaze.

"No. I just wanted to thank you for, you know, not letting those flames burn me earlier."

"That's great. Now leave me alone."

Aang sighed, as if he had expected such a remark, and then he settled down cross-legged beside the prince. Zuko repressed the urge to yell in frustration. If only he had the use of his limbs ...

"Did your father really order you to capture me?" Aang asked after a moment.

"Yes."

"And I suppose I can't persuade you to _not_ try to capture me, right?"

Zuko met the other boy's gaze steadily. "No."

Aang sighed. "Well, I'm sorry then."

Zuko said nothing.

"Aang, come on!" Sokka shouted. "We've got to leave before the toxins wear off!"

"Coming!" Aang responded, grinning as he waved to his friends. He was still smiling when he turned back to face Zuko. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, then."

"Right," Zuko said dryly.

Aang's grin widened a fraction. "I'd say I hope we could see each other again soon, but then you'd just attack me, so maybe not."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Just go away, please. I'm being tortured enough as it is with not being able to move without having to listen to your inane babbling as well."

Aang's smile got so big it was a wonder his head didn't explode. "So you _do_ have a sense of humour."

Zuko just glared.

"Aang!" Sokka and Katara called, this time more insistently.

The cheerful monk quickly scrambled to his feet. "Woops! Gotta go!"

Zuko was about to sigh in relief when Aang suddenly swivelled back around to face him.

"Oh, before I forget—"

To Zuko's astonishment, the Avatar placed his fists together and bowed in the way of the Air Nomads—a clear mark of respect.

"We might fight on opposite sides," Aang said seriously, "but I will not forget the mercy you showed me today." A warm smile touched his eyes. "You are an honourable warrior, Prince Zuko. I only wish that we could have—"

He broke off with a sigh, gave one last smile—though it was really more of a grimace—and then raced back to his friends. Zuko frowned and stared back up at the sky, just catching a glimpse of the bison as it flew off into the distance, along with its frustratingly confusing master. The kid was clearly insane, yet his parting words stuck in Zuko's mind long after the Avatar had left and the toxins had worn off the prince's body.

"_You are an honourable warrior."_

Zuko closed his eyes. "And you're still just a naïve child."

**oOo**

Aang smiled and rested his hands behind his head, stretching out on Appa so that he was cradled in a cocoon of the bison's fur. It felt good to be reunited with his friends again. Even listening to Sokka snore wasn't so annoying tonight. In fact, for Aang, everything was just about perfect. Katara and Sokka had told him that they had actually been coming back to join him when they had run into Zuko and the others. Still, even with that little hiccup, it had all worked out in the end. Well, mostly.

"Hey, Aang," Katara said, leaning over the side of the saddle.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can, Katara," Aang said brightly.

She should know by now that he would do anything for her.

Katara tugged on her plait, playing with the loose strands of hair at the end. "Well, I just wondered what you were talking to Zuko about—you know, before we left the abbey."

Aang frowned and sat up properly, rubbing the back of his neck as he pondered how to respond. "You really want to know the truth?"

She nodded.

"I was thanking him."

Her eyes widened. "For what?"

"Because he could have burnt me to a crisp and he didn't."

"So what? You just go and thank him?"

Aang shrugged. "It seemed the right thing to do."

Katara's mouth pulled down into a frown. "Aang, he's our enemy! He wants to capture you and take you back to the Fire Nation!"

"I know, I know!" Aang exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "But I just think—"

"You just think what?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand."

Katara placed her hand on his shoulder. "Aang, I know it's in your nature to not want to fight, but Zuko is dangerous. You can't trust him."

Aang pulled his knees up to his chest and looked the other way. "I know," he said sadly.

_But that doesn't mean I can't have hope._

"Hey, lovebirds!" Sokka called in a grumbling tone. "Do you mind keeping it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here!"

Momo chittered in agreement.

Katara rolled her eyes and looked back at Aang. "You'd better take us down so we can set up camp, otherwise Captain Grumpy over there might have an aneurysm—never mind that his snoring keeps everyone awake!" she added in a much louder voice.

"Hey, I resent that!" Sokka retorted.

Aang laughed and pulled on Appa's reins to guide the bison down to find a good camping spot.

It really was good to be with friends again.

* * *

The section with Bato at the beach and the later section where Zuko first runs into Katara and Sokka are based on scenes from the episode 'Bato of the Water Tribe'. Some of the dialogue has also been directly quoted from those scenes.

Also, FFN has the bounty hunter's name listed as 'Jun'. I decided to go with 'June', as that is how her name is spelt on the actual show credits. Just putting that out there.


	4. Playing With Fire

**Playing With Fire**

"Momo!" Aang called, glancing around the trees for any sight of the lemur. "Momo, where are you?"

"Ah, leave him," Sokka said, waving his hand unconcernedly. "He's probably just stuffing his face with nuts or something." A loud grumble. "Speaking of nuts—" Sokka rubbed his stomach with a grimace. "Can we get some more food? I'm starving!"

"Just have some bread," Katara replied, coming to stand beside the two boys. "There should be some left over from what the nuns gave us."

Sokka played with a loose thread on his tunic, looking oddly sheepish. "Well, uh, you see..."

Katara placed her hands on her hips. "Sokka, don't tell me that you ate the rest of our food rations."

At his continued silence, her eyebrows snapped together and she groaned in frustration.

"You did, didn't you? _Sokka_!"

"Hey, I'm a growing man!" he defended, folding his arms across his chest "Growing men need their food."

Katara's face turned an interesting shade of red, but before she could retort, Aang suddenly bounded forward and pointed at the billboard in front of them.

"Hey, I bet we could find plenty of stuff to eat there!" he exclaimed, and then turned to face the siblings with an ear-splitting grin. "The Fire Days Festival."

"Fire what?" Sokka asked, blinking in confusion.

"The Fire Days Festival," Aang repeated. "Look, they have Fire Nation cultural exhibits, jugglers, benders, magicians—this will be a great place for me to study some real firebenders!"

"That's great, Aang," Katara said with a smile.

"No, it's not."

They both turned to look at Sokka, who was now examining the other side of the billboard with a grim expression on his face.

"What are you talking about, Sokka?" Aang asked, visibly deflating.

"Look at this."

Aang raced around to the other side. He stopped short when he saw a familiar, arrow-headed figure in orange and yellow pasted on the wood. "Hey, it's a poster of me!"

"Yeah, a _wanted_ poster," Sokka retorted. "Aang, this is bad."

"What's this?" Katara murmured with a frown, peeling off the parchment that had been pasted to the bottom right corner. "Aang, didn't you say you were rescued from Zhao by a guy in a blue mask?"

Aang nodded.

"Well, it looks like the two of you have something in common." She held up the poster, revealing the grinning, demonic face.

"The Blue Spirit," Sokka read aloud, then let out a low whistle. "That's a hefty sum they're willing to pay for his capture. Wanted dead or alive as well." He shook his head. "Looks like the Fire Nation really didn't take to your friend, Aang."

"He's not my friend," Aang said quietly, looking the other way.

Katara frowned, watching the younger boy closely. Aang always seemed so down whenever he spoke of his masked ally. She had thought it was because the warrior had simply left after rescuing and healing Aang, but now she wondered if there was something more to it. The way Aang had said that the Blue Spirit wasn't his friend; it was the same tone he'd used when he'd seen the Southern Air Temple for the first time and saw how changed the place was—a mixture of regret and aching disappointment. She wondered what had really happened between the two, but she also knew that now was not the time to pry. They had more important things to worry about.

"Well, either way," she said, folding up the Blue Spirit picture and slipping it in her robe, "I don't think it's safe for us to be attending any Fire Nation festivals with these wanted posters everywhere."

"But—"

"No, Aang," Katara said firmly. "We can't risk you getting caught again. Just think what happened the last time. If it wasn't for the Blue Spirit, you would be getting shipped off to the Fire Nation right now."

"Come on, guys," Aang pleaded, peering up at them with soulful eyes. "This could be my only chance to study some real firebending." He turned to Sokka. "And you were just complaining before about how hungry you are. A festival is bound to have heaps and heaps of food—more than you can eat."

"I don't know," Sokka said thoughtfully, "I can eat a lo—hey, no changing the subject!"

"Sokka's right, Aang," Katara said, squeezing the younger boy's shoulder. "It's not safe."

"But I'm the Avatar! It's my duty to master all of the elements, and I can't do that when every firebender in the world wants to kill me!" He let out a deep breath, shoulders slumping. "I know it's a risk, but this really could be my only chance to see a firebending master up close."

Katara pursed her lips. "Well, I guess we could check it out."

Sokka's jaw dropped. "What? Are you crazy? You want to walk into a Fire Nation town when they're all fired up with their, you know—" he flailed his arms about in a helpless gesture "—fire?"

"We'll wear disguises," Katara said with a shrug, "and if it looks like trouble, we'll leave."

"Yeah," Sokka said sarcastically, "because we always leave before we get into trouble."

Katara rolled her eyes. "No one is asking you to come. You can stay here with Appa and Momo if it upsets you so much."

"No, I'll come." He drew himself up to his full height. "After all, someone has to make sure the two of you stay out of trouble."

"Right," Katara said dryly.

Aang dashed ahead, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Come on, guys! We don't want to miss anything. I'm telling you, if there is one thing the Fire Nation is good at it's putting on festivals! I remember this one time, Kuzon and I ..."

Katara smiled as Aang babbled on about a sun celebration he had attended over a hundred years ago. It was good to see him happy again, though she found it difficult to believe that he'd actually been friends with someone from the Fire Nation. A hundred years of war had changed the nations so much. The world that Aang had known—a world where an airbender could be best friends with a Fire Nation boy—did not exist anymore. Somehow, that made her sad.

Something brushed against her arm and she glanced down to see the Blue Spirit poster trying to escape from her robe. Frowning, she unfolded the parchment and stared down at the blue mask.

_I wonder where you are now,_ she mused, looking thoughtfully at the grinning face.

The Blue Spirit was an intriguing figure: a masked vigilante, a healer, and someone who had been willing to risk his life to save the Avatar. But then he had just disappeared afterwards, and she desperately wished she knew why. What was he hiding under that mask? And why was Aang so reluctant to talk about the silent warrior who had saved his life?

Sighing, she folded the parchment back up and tucked it more securely into her robe. Whoever this Blue Spirit was, she hoped that they would not need his services today. The last thing they needed was for Aang to be captured by the Fire Nation again, or for Sokka to say 'I told you so'.

_Still,_ she thought. _If you are out there, Blue Spirit, I hope you're keeping an eye out for Aang. I have a feeling he's going to need all the help he can get before this war is over._

**oOo**

Zuko stared at the mask in his hands, absently tracing his finger over the carved wood. He remembered when he had first bought the mask. It had only been a month since he had removed the bandages covering the left side of his face, and he was still getting used to the scarred boy that greeted him every time he looked in the mirror. Of course, he'd known at the time that he should have been happy. He'd been told by the healers that it was likely he would never see out of his left eye again and that his hearing might also be impaired, but Zuko had proven them wrong on both counts. His vision was perfect—though somewhat narrowed in scope—and his hearing had actually improved to an inhuman acuteness.

For a thirteen-year-old boy who had just lost everything, however, knowing that he was not about to go half-blind or deaf had been a small comfort. The burning memory of the Agni Kai had still been fresh in his mind, as was his more recent failure to gain any information about the Avatar from the four Air Temples. Zuko had not admitted it aloud, but he had begun to despair that he would ever be able to return to the Fire Nation. The Avatar had not been seen for a hundred years, and he was just a banished prince with no home and no birthright. He'd felt like a watercolour that had been left in the sun too long, and now the picture was beginning to lose all meaning and life.

That was when Zuko had seen the mask glinting up at him from the trader's stall. He'd recognised the character from an opera his uncle had forced him to watch during their travels to the Northern Air Temple. The Blue Spirit, the troupe had called him: a silent warrior who made his own destiny. Something in Zuko had reached out to the mask in that moment, or maybe the spirit of the mask had reached out to him. Either way, Zuko had found himself handing over a few copper coins to the Earth Kingdom trader and sneaking a wrapped bundle back to his cabin on the ship, where he had then tried on the grinning mask for the first time.

It was as if he had become a different person. The Blue Spirit didn't need to hunt for the Avatar. The Blue Spirit didn't need to worry about having no home, or disapproving fathers, or the loss of his honour. The Blue Spirit made his own honour, his own destiny. All he needed was his dual dao swords and a life of freedom and adventure.

Of course, that was what made Zuko's current predicament so ironic, because it was the Blue Spirit who had gone to get the Avatar back from Zhao. Prince Zuko had wanted to capture the boy, but the Blue Spirit had _healed_ him, and now the stupid kid thought that they could be friends and was ready to risk life and limb to achieve this deluded dream, if the Avatar's behaviour at the abbey was anything to go by. It was infuriating, but it was also impossibly confusing. Boundaries that should never have been crossed had been crossed, and now the line between mask and reality was becoming blurred. Now Zuko didn't know what to think or what to feel, especially in regards to the Avatar.

"_You are an honourable warrior, Prince Zuko."_

Zuko closed his eyes, trying to push back the feelings that arose whenever he thought of his enemy's parting words. He might have been able to understand the tribute a bit more if the Avatar had directed the words to the Blue Spirit—after all, his masked alter ego was the one who had rescued Aang in the first place—but Zuko had been wearing no mask when he had fought the Avatar at the abbey. He was just the banished prince trying to fulfil the task he had been set, and failing miserably.

His father would have called him weak for showing mercy, his sister would have laughed at him, but the Avatar had called him honourable. The Avatar had bowed to him in respect, like an equal. It was ... strange.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Zuko gave an involuntary twitch and shoved the mask under his blanket, hiding it from view.

"Enter," he commanded.

The door opened with a spinning of cogwheels and groaning metal. Firebender Nozomi crossed the threshold, inclining his head to the prince in a slight bow.

"A messenger just arrived from Pohuai Stronghold," Nozomi said, straightening to his full height. "Colonel Shinu has removed the ban stopping all ships from leaving the area. Now that we are free to go, Lieutenant Jee wishes to know where you would like the helmsman to set our course next."

Zuko frowned and stood up from the bed, pacing back and forth as he pondered over the message and all of its implications. If the ban had been removed then that meant Zhao had left the area, which also meant that the admiral had a new lead on where the Avatar was heading. Zuko's heart gave a funny leap in his chest. What if that idiot monk got himself caught again?

He glanced at Nozomi. "Did the messenger happen to mention what direction Admiral Zhao took his men?"

"No, sir." Nozomi hesitated. "That is—"

Gold eyes narrowed. "Yes?"

"There were rumours that the Avatar had been sighted last night in the colony town of Yin Shin during the Fire Days Festival. Perhaps Admiral Zhao went in pursuit."

A crease formed on Zuko's brow. What on earth was that kid up to?

"Should I, uh, tell the helmsman to set a course for the town, sir?" Nozomi asked when the prince continued to remain silent.

Zuko's frown deepened and he cast a glance towards his bed, where he knew his Blue Spirit mask was hidden under the blanket. "I need to speak with my uncle," he said shortly.

Without waiting for a response, he walked past Nozomi and headed for his uncle's cabin. A thorough understanding of the ex-general's character told Zuko that the old man would likely be snoring in his bed, fast asleep, and Zuko was not disappointed. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

"Uncle!" Zuko snapped. When that didn't work, he raised his voice even louder. "Uncle, wake up!"

Iroh sat up with a start, mumbling something under his breath about roast duck and _xi sang_ girls. Yawning, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then spotted his nephew. "Oh, it's you." A lazy smile stretched across his features. "I thought I heard your dulcet tones."

Zuko bit back a growl of exasperation. "Uncle, we have a problem," he said, getting straight to the point. "The Avatar was spotted in Yin Shin, and now Zhao has taken off in pursuit and he's probably hours ahead of us."

Iroh stroked his beard. "What are you suggesting we do?"

"I don't know!" Zuko cried, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. "Even if we did follow the Avatar to Yin Shin, there's no guarantee that he will still be there, and with Zhao doing everything in his power to sabotage my mission, I don't know if—"

"You don't know if it is worth the risk," Iroh finished for him with an understanding nod.

Zuko sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back what threatened to be a nasty stress headache. "We only just got given permission to leave port. As humiliating as it is to admit, I know I don't have the power to go against Zhao—at least not openly."

"That's very wise of you, Nephew. A true leader knows his weaknesses and when he must bide his time for the right moment to strike."

"Maybe so, but that still doesn't change the fact that Zhao is now one step closer to capturing the Avatar and we're still drifting around with nothing."

Iroh resumed stroking his beard. "The Avatar is a resourceful boy. Perhaps he will manage to elude Admiral Zhao."

"_Elude_ him? Uncle, that idiot walked into a Fire Nation colony and pretty much announced himself to be the Avatar. I don't think he even knows what the word 'cautious' means."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Iroh said with a sly smile.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "A moment ago you were just saying I was wise. Now you're calling me reckless."

"That is because you are both wise and reckless—though mostly reckless—but in this case I think you are worrying too much. I do not think Admiral Zhao will succeed in capturing the Avatar."

"Why not?" Zuko remarked bitterly. "He's done it before."

"And the Avatar managed to escape when no one else thought he could."

Zuko said nothing. He knew damn well how the Avatar had achieved that feat.

Iroh watched his nephew closely. "If you want my advice, Prince Zuko, I suggest you set our course for north."

"North? But what about Zhao?"

"You said yourself that you do not have the resources to go against Admiral Zhao openly. I think it best we avoid another confrontation and continue with the old plan. Didn't you say that you thought the Avatar might be heading to the Northern Water Tribe to be trained in waterbending?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then we should head north." Iroh smiled and stretched back out against his bed. "Ah, I wonder if I can persuade the cook to make us roast duck for dinner tonight. I have a real craving for it."

Zuko once more found himself pinching the bridge of his nose. Just when he thought he was having a serious conversation with his uncle, the old man would go and say something about tea or food, or something equally frivolous. Didn't his uncle understand the gravity of their situation? That stupid kid could get captured by Zhao again, and then it wouldn't matter how far north they travelled, because there would be no Avatar to intercept.

Clenching his jaw, Zuko turned and headed for the door.

"Where are you going, Nephew?" Iroh asked mildly.

"Out," Zuko responded, not looking back at his uncle.

Iroh's mouth twitched into a smile. "Don't stay out too long. You'll miss the roast duck."

"Ugh, I don't care about the roast duck, Uncle!" Zuko snapped. "Just make sure our supplies are restocked and that the ship is ready for departure. We'll be leaving for the North Pole tomorrow."

"Very well."

Zuko left without a further word and marched back to his own cabin. He slammed the door shut behind him and then opened the large chest where he kept his clothes, pulling out the form-fitting black bodysuit and gloves, as well his best stealth boots. Stuffing the lot into a bag, he then crossed to his bed and thrust the blanket aside, revealing the grinning blue mask. He hesitated only a moment before he shoved the mask inside the bag and then removed his dao blades from the wall.

"This time I won't let you even touch him, Zhao," Zuko promised grimly, bringing the broadswords together and sheathing the combined blades in a black scabbard.

Prince Zuko could not go against Admiral Zhao openly, but the Blue Spirit could—and would. He'd just have to make sure the Avatar did not see him, since his cover had already been blown with the kid from the last time he'd donned his disguise. Not that it really mattered. For once, this wasn't about capturing the Avatar. This was about making sure that bastard Zhao didn't have yet another reason to gloat in front of him. Zuko had been humiliated enough. It was time to even the scales.

"I told you not to get in my way, Zhao," Zuko said with a twisted little smile. "You should have listened to me the first time."

**oOo**

Aang was sick of breathing. Well, no, that wasn't right. He loved breathing, but he was definitely sick of _inhaling_ and _exhaling_ on top of a forest mountain to gain mastery of his inner fire. Watching the firebender magicians perform at the festival had been much more fun.

And that was the problem. After being forced to flee from Yin Shin, the trio had followed Chey—a Fire Nation deserter—back to Master Jeong Jeong, who had reluctantly agreed to teach Aang firebending. But now all Aang seemed to get to do was breathe, squat, and try to find harmony with the sun. He hadn't been allowed to produce a single puff of flame. It was infuriating.

So Aang had decided to confront his master in the hopes of persuading Jeong Jeong to speed up the learning curriculum. He should have known he'd just get another lecture about discipline and control.

"Fire is a horrible burden to bear," Jeong Jeong said grimly. "Its nature is to consume and, without control, it will destroy everything around it."

"But that's not right," Aang said slowly, remembering how Zuko had saved him in the clearing. "There's good in firebending as well. I mean, it can heal."

Jeong Jeong shook his head. "That is not possible. Fire can give light and warmth, but in the end it still burns. It cannot heal."

Aang opened his mouth to retort, but Jeong Jeong held up his hand for silence.

"Enough, Avatar. You are not ready to work with fire." He sighed and poured himself a cup of tea. "Learn restraint or risk destroying yourself and everything you love."

There was nothing else to be said. Aang had been thoroughly dismissed and knew that he would get nothing more from the ex-admiral if he stayed to argue the matter. Frowning, Aang turned on his heel and exited the tent. It bothered him that Jeong Jeong still refused to teach him proper firebending, but he had to admit to feeling a little confused as well. Why did Jeong Jeong believe that fire could not heal? He was a master of his element—supposedly one of the best in the world—so surely he must know that there was such a thing as fire healing. Yet he had seemed so certain...

Aang touched his hand to his shoulder, feeling the spot where the arrow had pierced through his skin. Only bending could have healed a wound like that so quickly. Since Zuko was a firebender, it made sense that the prince had used fire as the catalyst.

"I don't get it," Aang said aloud.

"Don't get what?"

He turned to see Katara standing in front of him, watching him with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Just something Master Jeong Jeong said," Aang muttered, and then he sighed as all of his old frustrations returned. "I don't know what to do, Katara. Master Jeong Jeong still refuses to teach me how to use fire. He says I'm impatient and that I need to learn restraint, but I still have to master all the other elements as well! I don't have time for breathing exercises and feeling the sun!"

Katara frowned and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Aang, I'm sure Master Jeong Jeong has his reasons. Just be patient. Remember, every element is different." A hint of amusement crept into her blue irises. "Perhaps with fire it takes a lot of breathing first."

He caught the laughter in her eyes and had to repress a smile. "I guess you're right. Maybe I am being impatient."

"Maybe," she agreed, squeezing his shoulder gently.

He sighed and then squatted down in his usual meditation spot, remembering to widen his stance as he closed his eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Aang's mouth twitched. "Breathing."

She laughed. "Then I'd better leave you to concentrate."

He threw her an annoyed look—knowing she was making fun of him—but she only smiled and walked a little away to continue her own waterbending practice. Aang waited to make sure she wasn't going to interrupt him again and then let out a deep breath, closing his eyes. He tried to focus on breathing in and out, but all he really wondered was how long it would take for Jeong Jeong to decide when he was ready to move on to the next step. He hoped it would be soon. Breathing like this was beginning to make him feel lightheaded.

**oOo**

It was almost an hour later when Katara found herself kneeling by the river, cradling her aching hands in her lap. Blisters were already beginning to form in scalding bubbles along her palms, reaching right down to her wrists in red swirls of burnt flesh. She supposed she should have seen it coming. Aang had been impatient with the control exercises and had not bothered to take it slow when the leaf he'd been clutching had turned into a ball of flames. Unfortunately, she just happened to be the one who had got hurt by his need to experiment.

Holding back a sob, she carefully placed her hands into the water to try to ease the pain. The immediate sting had her recoiling with a wince, but then a soothing balm surrounded her burns. Surprised, she opened her eyes to see that her hands were glowing. When she brought her hands back out of the water to examine her palms, she was astonished to see that the red marks were gone.

"You have healing abilities," a familiar voice observed.

She turned to see Jeong Jeong walking towards her, eyeing her hands with wonder.

"The great benders of the Water Tribe sometimes have this ability," he continued, taking a seat beside her on the riverbank. "I have always wished I were blessed like you, free from this burning curse."

"But you're a great master," Katara exclaimed. "You have powers I will never know."

"Water brings healing and life, but fire—" he looked down at his own hands "—fire brings only destruction and pain. It forces those of us burdened with its care to walk a razor's edge between humanity and savagery." His voice lowered, as if he were speaking more to himself. "Eventually, we are torn apart."

For a moment both were silent. Katara pondered over his words and, as she did, something slipped out from her robe. She snatched at the parchment before it could be carried off with the wind and realised it was the Blue Spirit wanted poster. It was then that a thought occurred to her.

"Master Jeong Jeong," she said, unable to keep the trembling excitement from out of her voice. "Are you quite certain that only waterbenders can heal?"

He nodded. "That is the way it has always been. Every element has its place in the universe, but only waterbenders have ever been able to use their element as a catalyst for mending the body."

A small smile curved Katara's mouth. So it was true. The Blue Spirit must be a waterbender. No wonder he had been able to heal Aang. He had healing powers like her.

_I'm not alone anymore,_ she thought, tightening her grip on the poster.

A fireball suddenly exploded in front of her, followed by another flash of heat. Jeong Jeong was up on his feet in an instant and creating a shield of flames around them.

"Go get your friends and flee!" he ordered. "Do not come back here or you will all be destroyed!"

"But—"

"Hurry!"

Katara hesitated only a moment before she turned and ran. In her hand, she still clutched the crumpled poster of a warrior in a blue mask.

**oOo**

Zuko heard the fireballs go off before he saw them. Grunting in frustration, he urged his legs to run faster as he made his way down the riverbank to where the sounds of fighting could still be heard. He had been hoping to sabotage Zhao's boats before the admiral even made it to the Avatar's position. Unfortunately, Zuko had been a bit more behind than he had thought. Any plans for a stealth attack had to be tossed down the drain. The new plan was simply to make the bastard pay in any way that he could. Zuko would just have to hope that the Avatar wouldn't be stupid enough to blow his cover, as he had no doubt that the kid would be right there in the thick of battle.

A flash of orange passed before his vision, and Zuko narrowed his eyes as he saw Zhao and a now familiar monk face each other in a standoff just ahead of him. He could not hear what the Avatar was saying, but Zhao's voice carried on the wind.

"I see he taught you how to duck and run like a coward," Zuko heard Zhao taunt, "but I doubt he showed you what a firebender is truly capable of!"

Before Zuko could make sense of what he was hearing, Zhao suddenly released a violent stream of flames, which Aang just managed to duck by balancing on one finger.

"Woah!" Aang exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder to see the trees behind him burst into fire. "Wild shot!"

"I'll show you wild!" Zhao snarled.

Zuko narrowed his eyes as he saw the older man take up a familiar stance. _Oh, no you don't!_

Unsheathing his dual dao blades, Zuko threw himself forward between the two enemies in a blur of black just as Zhao released another torrent of flames. Spiralling once through the air in a loose somersault, Zuko landed in a half-crouch in front of Zhao and brought his swords up in a cross-like formation, redirecting the flames away from himself and the Avatar in two jagged lines.

"It's you!" Aang gasped, taking a step towards the prince.

Zuko ignored the younger boy and continued to glare at Zhao through the slits of his mask. Very calmly, he stood to his full height and pointed one sword the admiral's way, daring him to try that move again. The admiral looked as if he had been punched in the gut, but he pulled himself together a second later.

"So, it seems the Blue Spirit is back to save the day again," Zhao sneered. "No matter. I'll just have to destroy you both!"

With a growl, Zhao brought his fists together and sent two fireballs their way—one of which Zuko dodged by rolling to the left, while Aang crafted a wind shield to protect himself from the other, dispersing the flames like a tornado. Zhao hissed in frustration and, perhaps sensing that he was not going to succeed by dividing his attention between his two opponents, his eyes flickered back to Zuko. Suddenly, there were three fireballs surging towards the prince, only this time there was barely any room for deviation. Zuko gritted his teeth and joined his swords into one blade, preparing to deflect the first attack. He was about to block the second when Aang swooped in beside him and created a gust of air, pushing the fireball aside. The third would have smacked the younger boy right in the face, but Zuko dragged Aang down with him by his collar at the last minute, forcing them both to fall to their stomachs.

"I can't believe this!" Aang babbled excitedly, looking over at Zuko as they lay side-by-side on the ground. "You're actually here to help!"

For answer, Zuko tugged hard on Aang's collar, pulling the boy with him as he rolled to avoid a firebomb. Because of the way they landed, Zuko was still half-shielding Aang with his body, and he took the moment to make use of their proximity to glare at the younger boy through the slits of his mask. The message was clear: don't talk. Fight.

"Right," Aang said, focussing his attention back on Zhao.

Zuko repressed the urge to roll his eyes. This was why he had known he had to come regardless of whether his behaviour could be considered treasonous. The Avatar was far too easily distracted.

Releasing his grip on Aang, Zuko got back to his feet and took a protective stance in front of the airbender. He met Zhao's gaze challengingly, who was still circling them like a starving buzzard-wasp. If the Avatar wasn't going to keep his guard up, Zuko would just have to do it for him.

"Well, well," Zhao taunted, "the two of you make a perfect pair; you both only know how to dodge and evade."

"We can't help it your aim is so bad," Aang retorted, taking his place beside Zuko.

"_What_?"

"You know it's funny," Aang continued, "because somehow I thought you would be better than this." A mischievous smile curled his lips. "I guess they'll make anyone an admiral these days."

Zhao let out a snarl of fury and released an onslaught of fire that was certainly impressive for its blazing intensity, but was still too wild to be of any threat. Zuko and Aang ducked the flames in unison, then rolled in a mirror of movement to avoid the arc of fire that followed.

"What are you doing?" Zuko hissed, grabbing the younger boy by the elbow and running with him to avoid the balls of flame that exploded around them like missiles. "You're just making Zhao angrier!"

Aang flashed him a toothy smile. "That's the point."

Zuko blinked. "What?"

"Zhao has no control."

"So?"

"So he—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko noticed a fireball coming straight for his face. He growled and brought his swords up in a flash of steel, sending the flames circling away like a dazed bird. His gaze flickered back to Aang.

"You were saying?"

Aang grinned. "Only that I think I've come up with a plan to get Zhao to defeat himself, but I might need your help."

They both ducked to avoid another jet of flames.

"Fine," Zuko responded. "What's the plan?"

"Lure him over to the river, then get him really angry and make him shoot fireballs like crazy. If I'm right about him, he'll set fire to all of his boats, which will leave him stranded and give us a clean getaway."

A smile curved Zuko's mouth, though it was hidden by the already permanent grin of his mask. "You know, Avatar, this might actually work."

Before Aang could respond, a firebomb exploded directly in front of them, making them both leap back to avoid the daggers of flame that sprouted up from the impact.

"Stand and fight, you cowards!" Zhao growled, striding towards them with his hands glowing in deadly flames.

Zuko stepped forward and swung his swords into an offensive stance. "Right. I'll distract him while you make your way to the boats. After that it's up to you."

"Got it!"

Zhao turned his head to watch as Aang darted off for the river, but the clear ring of steel had his attention returning to Zuko. He laughed coldly.

"What? Do you really think you can best me? You can't even _bend_."

As if to prove his point, Zhao sent an intense wave of fire at Zuko, which the prince simply side-stepped. Zuko watched the fireball's progress then glanced back at Zhao through the slits of his mask. Knowing that it would only grate on the admiral's nerves further, he once again pointed his sword at the other man, beckoning for Zhao to come closer if he dared. The admiral growled low in his throat and retaliated with several arcs of fire, all close in succession. Instead of running, Zuko charged towards the older man, swords flashing around him with blue-tipped heat as he slipped in and around the flames like a wisp of smoke, only bothering to block when necessary. Closer and closer he got, and then Zuko could see the fear enlarging his adversary's pupils, and he reached out with his sword and—

Tapped Zhao lightly on the head with the flat of his blade.

Zuko would have laughed at Zhao's expression, but, as it was, he had to quickly roll away to avoid being struck with a fireball. The risk had been worth it, though, if only to see the humiliation burn in those narrowed, hate-filled eyes. Arrogant bastard had that one coming for weeks.

"You'll pay for that!" Zhao spat, planting his feet firmly on the ground and gathering his energy.

Zuko's eyes widened slightly as he realised what Zhao was about to do. There was no way he would be able to deflect such an attack simply by using his swords. He'd have to use real firebending.

_This could get ugly_, Zuko thought with a grimace.

Warily, he began to back away from the admiral while he tried to calculate which would be the best direction for him to run to when it came time to dodge. He couldn't remember exactly now, but he thought that Zhao might favour his right for attacks. Or had it been his left?

_Damn it!_ Zuko held his swords up in front of him in a defensive stance. _I really should have thought this one through._

"Ahoy!" a familiar and—for Zuko—very welcome voice called. "I'm Admiral Zhao!"

Distracted, both firebenders glanced towards the boats to see Aang doing an odd—wait a minute, was the kid actually wiggling his bum at Zhao?

Zuko blinked in faint bewilderment, but apparently the juvenile taunt had been enough to snap the last shreds of logic that had been keeping Zhao in control. With a growl that sounded more animal than human, Zhao let loose a volley of fireballs that should have hit Aang, except the boy leapt to the next boat with a wicked little laugh, leaving the other vessel to catch fire in a swarm of flames.

"I don't believe it," Zuko muttered as he watched Zhao chase Aang onto the next boat and repeat the process. "The kid's plan is actually working."

Round and round the two went, with Aang calling out offensive taunts as he leapt from boat to boat while Zhao blindly charged forward like a saber-tooth moose lion, destroying all in his path with his uncontrolled fireballs. Zuko thought it was a good thing that the Avatar was an airbender; only someone as elusive as the wind would have managed to dodge all of those attacks without getting burnt to a crisp.

His heart suddenly jolted in his chest as he saw Aang get cornered on the last boat. Maybe he had spoken too soon.

"Nowhere to run now, you little smart mouth!" Zhao spat, holding his fists up to attack.

Aang somersaulted over the flames that rushed towards him, landing on the bow of the boat. "You've lost this battle, Zhao."

"Are you crazy?" Zhao snapped. "You haven't even thrown a single blow."

"No," Aang agreed, "but you have."

Zhao turned his head and it was then that he finally noticed the destruction he had caused. With an inhuman growl he lunged at Aang's throat, fire blossoming at his fingertips. Suddenly, there was a flash of steel, a faint gasp, and then Zhao's eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to the ground with a dull thud. Zuko calmly lowered his blade back to his side.

"Did you kill him?" Aang demanded, looking faintly green at the thought.

"He's just knocked out," Zuko said impatiently. "I hit him with the hilt of my blade, but he _will_ be dead if we don't get him off this ship before it burns and sinks."

"Right."

Zuko sheathed his broadswords and, together, the two boys grabbed one arm each and then hauled Zhao back to shore. Zuko let go of the unconscious man as soon as it was safe to do so without having Zhao inevitably drown; then he started making his way back up the river bank.

"Hey!" Aang shouted, dashing after him. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my ship," Zuko said shortly.

"But—"

Zuko swung around to face the other boy. "Listen, I know you have some weird idea about us being friends, but that is never going to happen. The only reason I came here today is because Zhao was trying to capture you again and I knew you were stupid enough to actually let it happen."

"Excuse me, but aren't you forgetting that it was _my_ plan that just stopped Zhao?"

"Whatever," Zuko said dismissively as he continued to walk. "You're still an idiot."

Aang's mouth drooped into a frown, but he brightened again a second later. "Fine, call me an idiot if you like, but that doesn't change the fact that _you_ came here to help me." He grinned impishly. "Face it, Zuko, you're not as mean as you like to make yourself out to be. Secretly, I think you're just wishing you could be my friend."

Zuko repressed a sigh. "You're delusional."

"Not as delusional as you!" Aang retorted, quickening his pace to match the older boy's longer strides. "You just can't go around helping your enemies and expect those people to stay your enemies. It just—it just doesn't work that way!"

"I'm not helping you!" Zuko snapped. "I'm helping myself!"

Aang tilted his head to the side in confusion. "How does that even work?"

"Because the only way I can return home is if I bring you back to the Fire Nation _myself_! If Zhao gets there before me I gain nothing! Hence, it's not in my best interests to let Zhao capture you."

"So why aren't you trying to capture me right now?"

Zuko saw the grin being flashed his way and had to resist the urge to throw a fireball at the kid's face. Instead, he gritted his teeth.

"I wouldn't get used to it, Avatar," he said in a hard voice. "This is a one-time offer only. The next time we see each other you had better be prepared to fight or else you will be captured." He met the boy's grey eyes menacingly. "And believe me, I don't plan on falling for any of your childish tricks like Zhao."

Aang's grin widened. "Sure, whatever you say."

Zuko barely managed to repress a groan. Now the kid was going to drive _him_ insane!

To his surprise, however, Aang did not pester him with any more unsubtle hints about the two of them becoming friends. Instead, after a few innocent questions and a few more monosyllabic replies on Zuko's part, the younger boy fell into a state of blissful silence, though he did insist on following Zuko, and staring at Zuko, and pretty much annoying Zuko without even saying a word. Spirits, how did the kid do it?

"What?" Zuko snarled after the seventh time he had caught Aang staring at him.

Aang rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "I was just thinking."

Zuko did sigh that time. "About what?" he asked, already knowing that he was going to regret taking the bait.

"Well, I just recently started learning firebending, but the guy who was teaching me seemed to really hate his bending. I mean he _really_ hated it. He kept going on and on about how dangerous fire is, and how I needed to learn control otherwise it would consume me and destroy everything I love." Aang let out a small breath. "Anyway, I didn't believe him and—and—"

"You hurt someone," Zuko said quietly, understanding softening his voice.

Aang nodded. "Katara. She managed to heal the burns, but I can't forget the fact that I hurt her, and after seeing the way Zhao used his fire, well—" He sighed and shook his head. "It almost makes me think that my teacher was right in saying that fire can only bring about destruction, and if that's the case then I really don't want to master the element."

Zuko paused in his steps, not looking at the other boy. "You should know better than anyone that fire isn't just destruction."

"See, but that's the thing," Aang said earnestly. "My master told me that it's impossible for fire to heal, yet you healed me, so I was just wondering how you—"

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But—"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Zuko growled, unsheathing one of his dao blades and holding the sharpened point to Aang's throat.

Aang held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Okay, okay, I get it. You don't want to talk about it."

Zuko glared at him for a moment and then finally lowered his blade.

"So, is there a reason you don't want to talk about it?" Aang asked after a pause.

Golden eyes flared with barely concealed rage. "You have three seconds to get out of my sight before I change my mind about capturing you today," Zuko said in a dangerously soft voice. "I suggest you start running."

"Come on, Zuko," Aang pouted. "Don't be like that. You know I didn't mean—"

"One."

"But—"

"Two."

Aang sighed and backed away. "Fine."

"Oh," Zuko added, pointing his blade towards Aang, "and don't you dare tell anyone about what happened here today. Not even your friends."

"Why not?" Aang asked with a frown.

"What do you think, idiot?" Zuko growled. "I'm the prince of the Fire Nation, and now my Blue Spirit identity is wanted by the Fire Nation. What do you think would happen if people realised the two were the same person?"

"Oh, right."

Satisfied, Zuko lowered his blade again. "Good. Now get out of here."

Aang knew better than to argue. Before Zuko could issue any new threats, the monk shot off in a whirlwind of dust, moving so quickly that he was like an indistinguishable blur of colour. Zuko watched until the boy's silhouette had faded entirely from view before he continued his trek back to his steamboat.

_Consider the debt repaid, Avatar._

A life for a life, aid in battle for aid in battle. Now the two of them were even, and Zuko had even managed to humiliate and stop Zhao from capturing the Avatar as well. Not a bad deal, really. Except he still felt unsettled.

_We work well together._

The thought sprung unbidden to Zuko's mind, just as it had the first time they'd fought side by side.

He gritted his teeth. Maybe the Blue Spirit could play temporary ally to the Avatar when it suited him, but the banished prince of the Fire Nation would never be able to do so—not that he wanted to. Zuko knew what was important. Going home was important. Making his father proud of him was important. Befriending a twelve-year-old boy with a skill for being irritating beyond reason was _not_ important. Yet even as Zuko rejoined his uncle on the main ship and ordered his crew to set a course for the North Pole, the thought could not quite be shaken from his mind.

They really had worked well together.

* * *

Certain scenes from this chapter have been based on the episode 'The Deserter'. Some dialogue has also been directly quoted and paraphrased from that episode.

I'm not sure what the real history behind the Blue Spirit is in terms of canon, so I apologise now if I have blatantly gone against some accepted 'outside' facts regarding Zuko and the creation of his Blue Spirit persona. I just wanted to emphasise the fact that the Blue Spirit really is like a separate identity for Zuko—someone who is not bound by a banished prince's fears and obligations.

Also, Yin Shin is just a name I made up, because the town that held the Fire Days Festival is listed as having no name.

And I think that's all from me. Phew.

Now I know you all want to click on that shiny review button and tell me _your_ thoughts. Go on, you know you want to. ^_~


	5. Wounded

**Wounded**

Two days had passed since the fight with Zhao on the riverbank. True to form, Zuko had tried to banish all memory of the event from his mind, knowing it would only distract him from his task, but that was easier said than done. Teaming up with the Avatar again—however briefly—had been a bad idea. A good warrior knew to stay focussed; a good warrior knew not to let himself humanise his enemy, but Zuko seemed to have forgot his training, and now all sorts of complicated thoughts would infiltrate his mind. It didn't help that the kid had brought up the healing incident again, either.

Zuko stared at his palms, remembering the warmth that had connected him to that bleeding wound; remembering how cold, empty and fragile he had felt afterwards. His healing powers had terrified him—still did terrify him. It had taken almost five days for his bending to return to normal, and that was with being forced to absorb as much natural energy from the sun as possible. He didn't like to think of what would happen if he accidentally triggered the ability a second time. It wasn't as if he had sat down in front of the Avatar and thought 'Right, I'm going to heal you now'; the act itself had been instinctive, and that worried him more than he cared to admit. What was he supposed to do when he had strange powers lurking inside of him that he couldn't control and which, when used, left him completely debilitated?

His hands trembled slightly. Zuko gripped his knees and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he forced his body into a state of calm. Breathe in and out, in and out. The four candles flickered on the meditation table in front of him, matching his breaths and uniting him with the flames. He could feel the fire—feel it merging with his inner flame and melting away all the messy tangles in his mind. He was warmth and light, and all he had to do was breathe.

"_You should know better than anyone that fire isn't just destruction."_

"_See, but that's the thing ... my master told me that it's impossible for fire to heal, yet you healed me, so I was just wondering how you—"_

Zuko gritted his teeth. One of the candles stuttered violently, then went out with a curl of smoke. No. He would not dwell on those thoughts again. He would not let himself be suffocated by childish fears. It didn't matter if every scroll he had read on bending suggested that what he had done was impossible. He would focus on the fire. Focus on the way it intensified and dimmed with each breath. In and out, in and out. That was it. Just breathe.

"_There is something unusual about your son's method of calling upon his inner fire. I have tried to teach him the proper technique, but—"_

"_He has the eyes, Princess Ursa. If Prince Zuko should turn out to be—"_

"_We will have to watch him. Make sure he doesn't—"_

"_It's not natural. I saw the bruises and—"_

"_Never do that again, Zuko! Do you understand? Never do that again!"_

"_Fire is life." _

The rest of the candles went out with a hiss. Zuko tightened his grip on his knees, keeping his eyes shut as darkness surrounded him. He remembered now. It was his mother who had spoken the words—the ones that had first triggered him to heal the Avatar. His firebending instructor, Master Mizuto, had been especially harsh with him that day, frustrated with his lack of progress in offensive firebending. Then his mother had caught him cradling a wounded turtle duck in his hands and thought—well, she'd never actually told Zuko what she'd thought; only that it was wrong and that he should never do it again.

It was the first time his mother had truly lost her temper with him and the shock of seeing her like that—so angry and frightening—had made him run away in tears. Later, his mother had found him crying behind the old cherry tree. He had thought she was going to yell at him again, but she'd simply pulled him into her arms and apologised over and over. He had scared her, she had confessed. For a moment she had thought—well, it didn't matter what she had thought, but he must know that she still loved him and would never hurt him.

"But you must promise me, Zuko," Ursa had said earnestly, pulling back from him to meet his eyes. "Promise me that you will never try to use your firebending for anything other than what your instructors teach you to do. Promise me that you will do exactly as they ask of you and no more."

"But—"

"No buts!"

Then his mother had hugged him close, smoothing a hand through his hair. "Fire is life, Zuko. You know this—you have always known this—but for the sake of your own you must ignore your instincts and do what I ask. You must listen to Master Mizuto and become the firebender that the Fire Nation expects you to be. Promise me!"

Tears had streamed down his cheeks as he had looked up into his mother's face. "I promise."

That was ten years ago. Back then, Zuko had not understood why his mother had been so afraid. Now, at the age of sixteen, he had his suspicions, and none of them made him feel any better. Fragments of memory were slowly coming together. All the strange conversations he had overheard between his mother and Shizue, his mother's lady-in-waiting; all the wary looks Master Mizuto had cast his way when teaching him firebending, and the way his mother had insisted that he had to learn how to become a powerful fighter, as if he could have been anything else.

"She had known," Zuko whispered to himself. "Mother and Shizue, they had both known."

He suddenly felt sick. How could he have not seen it before? There was no reason for his mother to have got so upset at the sight of her six-year-old son holding a wounded turtle duck in his hands. No reason at all, unless she had been afraid that he might heal it.

"_He has the eyes, Princess Ursa."_

Trembling slightly, Zuko brought the candles back to life with a flick of his wrist, lighting his cabin with a soft glow. Standing up from his meditation position, he walked over to the cabinet and picked up the small mirror he used for shaving. Gold eyes stared back at him—not the rich amber like what his father, mother and sister had; not reddish brown like his uncle or the typical darker browns and greys seen in the Fire Nation. His eyes were gold. Pale gold.

_Unnatural_, his reflection seemed to hiss.

Zuko shoved the mirror face-down on the cabinet. His heart was pounding in his chest, bloodying itself against the walls of his ribs like a wounded sparrowkeet desperate to break free. Why had his mother not told him? Why had she been so afraid? What—what was wrong with him?

"_It's because you're not normal, Zuzu. That's why mother has Shizue watch you so closely. They both think you're a monster."An innocent smile. "Didn't you know?"_

Zuko covered his face with his hands. He knew it was a lie. Azula always lied. Mother had loved him. She had just been scared; she had told him so herself.

_Of what?_ a small voice demanded in his mind. _Why should she be afraid that you can heal? Healing helps people, but she told you it was wrong. She got angry at you just for holding a wounded turtle duck. _

He shook his head, trying to banish the voices from his mind. Mother had loved him. She had always loved him. It was Azula who was the monster. Always Azula.

The door to his cabin opened and Zuko quickly dropped his hands from his face to see his uncle enter. Iroh had been smiling, but his good humour faded as soon as he took in his nephew's appearance. Zuko wondered what the old man saw. Did he also see gold eyes and think monster?

"Is something wrong, Zuko?" Iroh asked, closing the door behind him. "You look pale."

Zuko averted his gaze. Thoughts were still racing through his mind, tangling into confused knots while his emotions swirled around inside him like a firestorm. He just didn't understand. Even if his mother had been right to stop him from discovering his healing powers as a child—because Agni knew he hated the ability now—that still didn't explain why she and Shizue had feared that he _might_ have said powers when the rest of the bending world seemed to believe it was impossible. It just didn't make sense, and that bothered him.

A hand was placed on his shoulder. Zuko glanced down to see his uncle staring at him in concern. His stomach twisted painfully. The child in him wanted to demand the answers from his uncle, just as he had always done when he felt confused; the disillusioned teenager wondered if he could even trust this man. There were so many secrets, so many things that didn't add up. Zuko was at a loss what to believe. All he had was his mother's warning: to hide his healing abilities. It wasn't much, but he had to trust that she'd had his best interests at heart, because if he didn't; if he stopped believing that she had only ever been trying to protect him, then everything else she'd said must also be a lie, and Zuko couldn't bear that. His mother had been everything to him. _Everything_.

But he just felt so confused.

A crease formed on Iroh's brow as the silence continued. "Nephew," he began in a soft voice, "I have told you before not to keep things bottled up. Please, talk to me. Perhaps I can be of help."

Zuko looked the other way, still feeling torn as to what he should do. In the end, the decision was made for him. The sound of the ship's horn going off in two short blasts had both firebenders glancing towards the door.

"Why are we changing course to port?" Zuko demanded, shrugging free of his uncle's grasp and taking a step forward. "I never ordered the lieutenant to do so."

"Ah, that's because I did."

"Uncle!"

"Now, Nephew, there is no need to get upset. You know I would not have interfered with your orders unless it was for an emergency."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Like your lotus tile emergency?"

"Not quite. Two of the strings on the liuqin have broken and there is no way to replace them with the stock we have on ship." Iroh heaved a gusty sigh. "You know we can't have music night without someone to play the liuqin."

Zuko let out a growl of frustration. "Thank you, Uncle. Now if Zhao captures the Avatar before me because we went on another one of your useless detours, I can at least comfort myself with the knowledge that you and the crew managed to enjoy music night."

Iroh's mouth stretched into an amiable smile. "I knew I was lucky to have such an understanding nephew."

Zuko closed his eyes in pained exasperation.

"Which reminds me," Iroh continued, either oblivious or simply choosing to ignore his nephew's reaction. "Will you be joining us for music night tonight? I remember how well you used to play the tsungi horn, and I know the crew would love to have you attend."

Still with his eyes closed, Zuko pointed a finger to the door. "Get out."

"Now, Zuko—"

"Out!"

Iroh sighed. "As you wish, but you know the offer still stands."

"I think I'll pass," Zuko said dryly, and then slammed the door shut behind his uncle's retreating figure.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to ward off a sudden headache. Today was just not turning out to be his day.

**oOo**

Two days of straight flying had not been fun. Neither had fighting off the Fire Nation at the Northern Air Temple, for that matter, but at least then Aang had not been forced to put up with Sokka grumbling about how slow Appa was going, or how Momo kept stealing all the food, or how he wondered if they were ever going to find the Northern Water Tribe when their only clues were that it was somewhere up north and surrounded by water.

"You know," Sokka had said sarcastically, "because we've been travelling north for two days and are still surrounded by water."

Aang could admit that he might have got a little snippy in response—okay, maybe a lot—but he was just as tired as the rest of them. It was therefore a relief when they finally came across the Northern Water Tribe patrol boats and were guided inside the city walls. The nice thing was that Aang didn't really feel the cold, being an airbender. The downside was that everything was made of ice, and that got a little stifling and boring after a while. He could admit the city was impressive—even beautiful in a stark, icy kind of way—but there was just so much white.

"Seriously," Aang said as he, Katara and Sokka were shown to their room. "How can people live like this? Everything is just ice. Ice, ice, ice. No trees. No grass. Just—" he ran his hand along the wall, then showed his glistening palm "—ice."

Sokka stared at him with faint disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

Aang blinked. Then, as he took in Sokka and Katara's blue coats and fur, two pink spots formed on his cheeks. Right. Southern Water Tribe. Ice.

"I mean, um, the city is really nice," Aang hastily corrected himself, forcing a grin. "Really, really nice. Lots of ice and, um, yeah. Nice ice."

Sokka slapped his palm against his forehead.

Katara dumped her sleeping bag on the floor. "Well, I think the city is beautiful," she said with finality, "and once we learn waterbending, Aang, it will be even better."

"Now _that_ I can agree with," Aang said, cracking a grin. "I wonder if we'll get to see any waterbending tonight at the feast."

"I'm sure we will," Katara said with an easy smile of her own. "They seem pretty big on welcoming committees here. Not like back home. The only greeting you get there is a dry hello from Gran-Gran and the kids throwing snowballs. Right, Sokka?"

Sokka just sighed wistfully.

Katara frowned at her brother. "Sokka?" She waved her hand in front of his face. "Hey! Earth to Sokka!"

"Yeah," Sokka said with a dreamy smile. "She really is beautiful."

Katara and Aang exchanged confused glances.

"I don't even want to know," Katara said with a roll of her eyes.

Aang just grinned. It sounded like Sokka had found a new friend.

Speaking of friends. He wondered what Zuko was doing. Their last parting hadn't exactly been the best, but it had still been better than the one before. No one had been paralysed, after all, and no fireballs had been thrown—well, unless you counted Zhao. In a way, Aang had made good progress in getting Zuko to soften towards him, though there were still many things that troubled him about the scarred teenager; the fact that Zuko wanted to capture him and take him back to the Fire Nation just being one.

Aang breathed out a sigh. _I hope you're okay, Zuko, wherever you are._

He didn't know why, but he kept getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought of the prince. He sure hoped it didn't mean anything. Regardless of what Zuko had done or was planning to do, Aang didn't like the thought of the older boy being hurt. The only problem was that his feelings had never been wrong before.

**oOo**

It was official: today was really not Zuko's day. After the pointless detour to save music night, Admiral Zhao had then turned up in all his arrogant glory and commandeered Zuko's crew—even the cook, much to Iroh's dismay. The admiral didn't even bother to disguise his intentions, stating quite bluntly that he was not going to let Zuko get in his way again. It was humiliating and infuriating—especially since Zuko knew there was nothing he could do to stop his crew from leaving—but the worst part had come when Zhao had seen the dual dao swords hanging on the wall.

"I never knew you were skilled with broadswords, Prince Zuko," Zhao had commented, holding one of the blades up to the light.

Zuko had lied through his teeth, stating the swords were just antiques and had been put there for decoration, but it was obvious Zhao had not been deceived. The admiral had recognised the weapons—recognised the _Blue Spirit's_ weapons. Zuko still felt sick at the thought. Sick and angry, and so thoroughly tired of having everything in his life go wrong.

By the next evening, the prince was in an even fouler mood. His crew had gone to join with the rest of the navy, his ship was stuck at port—because there was no way he and his uncle could move it by themselves—and somewhere out there Zhao was wandering around with the knowledge that the banished prince of the Fire Nation was also the Blue Spirit. Life could not get any worse.

The door to his cabin opened and Iroh popped his head into the room. He smiled when he spotted the prince lying on the bed. "The crew wanted me to wish you safe travels."

"Good riddance to those traitors," Zuko snapped, folding his arms across his chest and glaring up at the ceiling.

Iroh walked a little more into the room. "It's a lovely night for a walk. Why don't you join me? It would clear your head."

Zuko continued to glower up at the ceiling.

"Or just stay in your room and sit in the dark. Whatever makes you happy."

Zuko still said nothing, just waiting for his uncle to leave. Iroh took the hint and left the cabin, closing the door behind him with a dull clang. Zuko's scowl deepened. Finding himself alone again had not softened his mood, and he wondered if it would have been better to just go on the stupid walk with his uncle. He knew, though, that if he had done that his uncle would just pester him with annoying proverbs and convoluted speeches of comfort, and Zuko really didn't want to deal with that right now. Being forced to accept the hard truth that he was not going to capture the Avatar—that Zhao of all people was most likely going to achieve this feat—just made Zuko want to scream and cry, and do many other undignified things that a prince of the Fire Nation should not even contemplate.

He was never going to go home. He was going to stay banished for the rest of his life. It was a heartbreaking realisation.

Suddenly, Zuko heard the sound of a cogwheel being turned. He sat up with a start, warrior reflexes kicking in. "Uncle?" he called, getting off the bed and pushing open his door. "Uncle is that you?"

Nothing.

Zuko breathed in deeply and walked down the hallway, keeping his hands slightly raised so he could unleash a fireball if necessary. Experience had taught him that one could never be too cautious, and with Zhao knowing of his Blue Spirit identity, Zuko was not about to take any chances. There was no saying what the admiral would try to do. Zhao had no concrete proof that Zuko was his masked enemy, but sometimes you didn't need proof to bring a person to justice. Sometimes you just needed a questionable moral compass and a vindictive streak, which Zhao had in abundance.

So Zuko did not immediately dismiss his instincts when there appeared to be no one else on the ship. Instead, he made his way through the corridors and cabins, searching for any sign of an intruder. By the time he had reached the control room, he was feeling twitchy and mildly exasperated with himself. Maybe he had just imagined the noise. Maybe he was just letting his fears get the better of him. Maybe he—

A squawk from outside the ship had Zuko spinning around to face the window and he caught sight of a familiar green bird taking off into the night. His eyes narrowed, but before he could react something exploded from deep within the vessel, jolting him off balance. Zuko gasped and tried to steady himself, but it was too late. There was a series of loud booms, the sound of metal groaning, and then the flames were coming towards him and he could feel the heat coming closer and closer, threatening to burn.

Threatening to kill.

Frantic, he brought up a wall of fire just as the explosion collided with his body. The sheer power behind the attack was overwhelming; he suddenly found himself swallowed up in an inferno of flames and twisted metal, and a choked cry escaped his lips as the force of the blast shoved him backwards through the window, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. Glass shattered and drifted around him like broken diamonds, and Zuko blinked dazedly as his body plummeted towards the freezing waters below, his sluggish mind only half recognising that he was falling.

_No_, he thought as he finally grasped what was happening. _I can't give up. I can't—_

But his body continued to fall, and then there was only darkness.

**oOo**

Aang dropped his plate with a clatter. He placed his head in his hands, breathing in deeply to ease his sudden nausea. He felt terrible, as if a cold fist had squeezed his heart and then spread a noxious gas throughout his lungs, making his head swim and his stomach twist into knots. Suddenly, he really regretted eating that second helping of seaweed soup.

Katara placed a hand on his shoulder. "Aang, are you alright? You don't look so well."

"I—I don't know," he admitted, raising his head from his hands. "I just got this really awful feeling all of a sudden."

Sokka, who had overheard their conversation, leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I think it was the soup. I'm feeling a bit gassy myself. Should have just stuck with the sea prunes."

Aang shook his head. "I'm not feeling gassy, Sokka! I just—"

"Just what?" Katara prompted, looking at him in concern.

Aang rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know. Something just feels wrong."

"What do you mean?" Sokka exclaimed, drawing quite a few eyes to their table. "This isn't another of your weird Avatar things, is it? We're not going to suddenly be attacked by rampaging panda spirits, are we? Because I had enough of that the last time!"

"Sokka, keep your voice down," Katara hissed, giving her brother a light whack around his head.

"Ow!"

"Stop being such a baby," Katara retorted. "I didn't hit you that hard."

"Hard enough."

Katara ignored him and glanced back at Aang. "Well? Is it something to do with the spirits?"

Aang closed his eyes, trying to search out his feelings. It didn't feel like there were any malevolent spirits around. This was something more personal, as if a hand had reached deep inside of him and taken something precious, leaving him cold and shaken. He felt like he'd just stumbled across Monk Gyatso's skeleton all over again. Oddly, though, the only person he could see in his mind was the image of a scowling teenager with a scar on his face.

"It's him," Aang murmured.

Sokka's brow furrowed in confusion. "Who? Did you see something? Is it a rampaging panda spirit?" He clutched at his hair. "What are you talking about?" he ended on a whine.

Aang just shook his head in a helpless gesture. He didn't know, but somehow he knew it had something to do with Zuko. Something had happened to the prince. He could feel it in his heart.

Katara gripped his hand. "Aang, you really don't look well. Perhaps you should lie down."

"I'm fine, Katara. Really," he added when she continued to look at him sceptically. "I don't even feel dizzy anymore."

She released his hand. "If you say so."

Sokka thrust his head between the two, pointing a finger at Aang. "Hey, I still want to know who this 'him' person is. You just can't make cryptic remarks and then not explain what you meant."

Aang sighed. "Okay, okay, but I don't really understand it myself. This is just a guess, alright?"

The siblings nodded, urging him to continue. Aang exhaled deeply. He really didn't want to lie, but he knew that things would only get more complicated if he admitted it was Zuko he had sensed. Maybe if he twisted the truth just a little...

"You remember the Blue Spirit?" Aang asked, looking at his friends.

Sokka scratched his chin. "Wanted guy with the blue mask, right?"

"Yes, Sokka," Katara said, rolling her eyes. "He is the wanted guy with the blue mask. Oh, and let's not forget that he saved Aang's life!"

"I know _that_. Sheesh, there's no need to get so touchy about it."

"I'm not getting touchy! I'm just saying that you could show a bit more respect to the guy who stopped Aang from bleeding to death and being shipped off to the Fire Nation!"

Aang repressed a sigh. "Anyway," he said firmly, before the siblings could start arguing in earnest. "When I felt ill just before, I got the impression that something had happened to the Blue Spirit. Something really bad."

Katara gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. "Are you sure?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Like I said, I don't really understand this myself. I just know that all of a sudden I felt really awful and all of those feelings pointed to him."

Sokka scrunched his nose. "You really are a weird kid sometimes."

"Gee, thanks," Aang said, slumping his shoulders.

Katara glared at her brother. "Sokka!"

"What?" he responded defensively. "All I'm saying is that all this talk of feelings and Blue Spirits is getting a little weird for me. I liked it much better when—" He broke off as he caught sight of a pretty girl with silvery white hair. "Excuse me for a moment."

Aang watched as Sokka bounded over to talk to Princess Yue. Beside him, he heard Katara sigh.

"And there he goes," she said dryly. "You realise we're not going to see him for the rest of the night—unless Yue tells him to leave her alone, of course."

Aang shrugged. "At least he's happy, right?"

"I guess." Katara glanced back at Aang and a troubled frown creased her brow. "So you really think that something has happened to the Blue Spirit?"

"I don't know," he repeated. "Like I said, it's just a feeling."

"What will you do?"

"What can I do?" he exclaimed helplessly. "It's not as if I can jump on Appa and go looking for him. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Not to mention the fact that the Blue Spirit was actually Prince Zuko, who, if their last meeting was anything to go by, still seemed quite determined to capture Aang if he got the chance.

Katara's frown deepened. "I suppose you're right; I just can't help but feel worried. I wish there was something we could do. He saved your life, Aang."

"I know," Aang said softly. "I'm worried about him too. He's a tough guy, but sometimes he can be pretty reckless."

A small smile curved her mouth. "Sounds like someone else I know."

Aang had the grace to give a sheepish grin, but inwardly he just felt sick with worry. He hoped that he was wrong about the strange feeling he had got, but something in him whispered that this was no mistake. Something had definitely happened to Zuko, and it killed Aang to know there was nothing he could do to help.

_Don't you dare go dying on me, Masky. I'm not ready to give up on you just yet._

**oOo**

Everything was hurting. Zuko felt like he had been crushed by a stampede of komodo rhinos, then lit on fire, then stabbed with a hundred knives just to add the finishing touch. Even just trying to breathe made him feel like his body was coming apart at the seams; every laboured inhale and exhale forced sharp stabs of pain to slice through his chest. He wished he could sit up to see how much damage had been done, but he couldn't seem to move. He couldn't even blink. The only thing that existed in his world was the agony coursing through his body and the suffocating darkness pressing down on him from all sides, holding him trapped.

_Don't panic_, he told himself. _You've been in this situation before._ _Just focus on the fire_. _Focus on the way it burns with light. Ignore the darkness. Ignore the pain. Just focus on the fire._

He exhaled in a jagged, agonised breath. Yes, he could almost feel it now—that small flicker of warmth inside him. Instinct told him that he needed to go deeper, so he reached down with invisible fingers, pushing through walls of flame to the spark of life he could feel thrumming at the very centre of his inner fire, just like a tiny heartbeat. Slowly, he let the rhythm fill his body, merging with his own heartbeat so that he and the fire were of one heart, one breath. It was just like when he meditated, and he clung to that spark with all his soul, letting it cradle him in its heat, burning away his fears and pain. He was warmth and light, and all he had to do was breathe.

"Zuko."

A muffled voice calling his name. Too distant. Too painful. He wanted to stay with the flames.

"Zuko, you have to wake up."

The voice was getting closer. It sounded upset.

"Please, Nephew. You must snap out of this!"

A sharp intake of breath. Nephew. That's right. He had an uncle.

The flames he had wrapped himself up in suddenly vanished and Zuko dimly became aware of something wet dabbing at his cheek. Tensing at what he felt was an invasion of his person, he tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy and thick and as if they had been glued together. It was just like when he had woken up for the first time after his Agni Kai with his father, and the raw panic that immediately gripped his mind had him lashing out in a wild tangle of limbs.

"Zuko! Zuko!"

Hands closed around his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress. Zuko couldn't help the small sob that escaped his lips, though he wasn't sure if it was from the intensity of his injuries or just the momentary despair of finding himself blind and helpless again. He hated that feeling more than anything.

"Zuko," the voice said again, much more gently this time. "Calm down. It's just me."

With an effort Zuko managed to force his eyelids open, letting him see past a swarm of black dots to the fuzzy image of an old man with a beard leaning over him. He blinked just to make sure the image was still there. It was.

"Uncle?" Zuko said weakly.

Iroh let out a relieved sigh. "Good, you're finally awake."

Zuko tried to sit up, but the sledgehammer of pain that rammed his nervous system had him collapsing back against the pillows in an instant. He breathed in another sharp breath, feeling his stomach twist with nausea as his body protested at even this small motion. Spirits, he was a wreck.

"Careful," Iroh said, helping him to get back into a more comfortable position. "You've broken three of your ribs and have quite a nasty collection of cuts and bruises on your body." He shook his head sadly. "You're lucky that explosion didn't kill you."

Zuko placed a hand over his eyes, wincing slightly as his fingers brushed against tender flesh. "I think it would have if I hadn't been able to bring up a fire shield just before I was hit. That explosion hadn't been designed to leave survivors."

"Did you see who placed the explosives?"

Zuko barely repressed a growl. "It was those damn double-crossing pirates we came across a few weeks back. I recognised the bird."

Iroh stroked his beard. "That's strange. Pirates don't usually go out of their way to make assassination attempts—especially if there is nothing of profit to loot."

"I know, Uncle. That's why I think they were paid."

"By whom?"

Gold eyes narrowed. "Admiral Zhao."

"That's a heavy accusation, Nephew."

"But a true one." Zuko met the older man's gaze. "You've seen what he's done to sabotage my mission, Uncle. You know I'm right."

Iroh accepted this assertion in silence. "What will you do?"

A smile twisted Zuko's bruised and bloody face. "What I always planned to do. I'm going to capture the Avatar, and Zhao is going to help me do it."

"I don't doubt you, Nephew," Iroh said calmly, "but don't you think you should rest first? Those injuries are not just going to disappear."

Zuko shook his head. "There isn't enough time. Zhao's fleet is leaving tomorrow and with them goes my only chance of getting to the North Pole. I have to get on one of those ships."

Iroh's brow creased in concern. "Zuko, I know you're dedicated, but there is such a thing as pushing yourself too hard. You almost died today. Please, just—"

"I don't care, Uncle! A bit of pain is nothing to what will happen if Zhao captures the Avatar before me!" Zuko took in a shuddering breath, and his voice dropped to a murmur as he looked the other way. "I have to do this."

Iroh stared at him for a long moment. "Very well," he said grimly, "but don't think I'm going to let you do this alone."

Zuko glanced up in surprise. "What?"

"I'm coming with you. In fact," Iroh continued, warming up to the idea, "I think it's about time I pay our friend Admiral Zhao a visit." A sly smile curved his mouth. "After all, with my nephew dead and the ship gone, what else am I supposed to do except join the admiral on his expedition to the north?"

Understanding lit Zuko's eyes. "Do you think he will fall for it?"

"Of course." A lazy wink. "I am a master of deception."

Zuko resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Right."

Iroh's smile widened a fraction. "Don't worry, Nephew. We shall find a way to get you on one of Admiral Zhao's ships, but for now you must listen to your uncle and rest. You're going to need all of your strength if you want to capture the Avatar."

For once, Zuko did not argue. He really did feel terrible, so he simply closed his eyes and let his uncle finish redressing his wounds. Consequently, he did not see the thoughtful look that the older man gave him as Iroh noticed that some of the cuts he had been cleaning seemed to have shrunk in size from the last time he had checked.

"Zuko," Iroh said, still frowning at one of the half-healed gashes.

"Mm?" Zuko mumbled sleepily.

Iroh raised his eyes to his nephew's face, seeing how bruised and battered it was, but also how young. He sighed.

"Never mind," Iroh said. "It's nothing." He clasped Zuko's hand briefly. "Rest well, my nephew."

Zuko did not respond. He had already fallen asleep.

* * *

The section where Zuko talks to his uncle before the assassination attempt is based on a scene from the episode 'The Waterbending Master'. Some of the dialogue has also been quoted and paraphrased from that episode. Also, for those who don't know, a liuqin is a Chinese mandolin and (as far as I can tell) is the instrument Lieutenant Jee was playing during the final music night.

Just as a heads up, I might take a bit longer than usual to get the next chapter written (and that really is a might, since I'm clearly crazy and love writing this story even when I shouldn't be). Thing is, I've got a lot of work on my plate at the moment and am not feeling too flash health-wise, so who knows how that will go. Either way, I'll still try to update again as soon as possible. ^_^


	6. Ashes and Ice

**Ashes and Ice**

The inhabitants of the Northern Water Tribe had looked on in wonder when the grey snow first appeared. Katara had simply gripped the pendant at her neck, closing her eyes to block out the sight. She remembered the phenomenon of the grey snowfalls from her childhood; a blend of soot and sleet that had always resulted in blood. There was only one explanation for such an occurrence: the Fire Nation was coming to invade, and that meant the small measure of peace she, Aang and her brother had found within the city walls would soon be reduced to ashes. She should have known the idyll could not last. The Fire Nation always did ruin everything.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked out across the ocean to where the fleet of steel monsters waited to start their assault. The last time she had seen the Fire Nation navy attack she had been too young and defenceless to make a difference. This time she swore she would not stand by on the sidelines. For days she had trained with Aang under Master Pakku, learning offensive waterbending techniques and perfecting her skill with her element. She was not that weak little girl anymore. She would fight, and she would make sure her enemies were defeated.

Katara tightened her grip on her necklace, feeling the carved patterns on the stone dig into her palm. _I won't let you take anyone else away from me_, she silently promised. _Not this time._

The drums were still reverberating from within the city, pounding with the rhythm of a hundred heartbeats as they called the warriors to arms. Releasing her necklace, Katara turned to meet her brother's gaze. The three lines on his forehead glowed in vivid red—a mark of his courage for volunteering to join a team of recruits on a dangerous mission. Her heart clenched as she remembered Chief Arnook's warning that many of them would not return, but she knew better than to ask her brother to rethink his decision. Like her, Sokka was willing to risk everything to protect the ones he loved. He could not be with Princess Yue, but he could fight for her. He could save Yue's people. Katara knew that their father would have been proud.

"You ready?" Sokka asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Katara nodded her head. "I know what I have to do."

Together, they turned to face the oncoming ships. She tried not to flinch when she saw the first ball of flames soar towards the wall, shattering ice and burning through flesh with sickening ease. There was no room for fear on the battlefield. She had to be strong like the wolf; she had to stand her ground and be prepared to defend her pack.

_I won't run this time._

The Fire Nation had already destroyed her family once. She would not let them do it again.

**oOo**

Zuko ignored the screams as he examined the maps in front of him. After spending almost three years at sea in hostile waters, he was used to the sounds of battle: the guttural cries of men and women as they fought and died to protect their lives; the groaning of catapults being unleashed, and the awful shrieks that followed whenever a fireball made contact. He had heard it all before, and he knew what he would see if he went out and joined the firebenders on the deck. Rock and ice would be crumbling, ships would be sinking from gaping metal wounds, and warriors from both nations would be left staring up at the sky through sightless eyes—some just floating on the water like apples bobbing in a bucket.

This was Admiral Zhao's great moment, but Zuko wanted none of it. The prince's only focus was to capture the Avatar, so he had slipped free of his squadron and taken refuge in one of the escape hatches, waiting for the opportune moment to make his move. Admittedly, the plan he had come up with was not his best, but after days of plotting and scrapping ideas, Zuko had realised that there were just too many variables. For this mission, he was going to have to take his chances; indeed, the only thing he knew for certain was that he would somehow have to infiltrate the city alone and find the Avatar. That was why he had stolen the maps from Admiral Zhao's cabin. Reckless he might be, but that didn't mean he was about to sneak into enemy territory and leave himself completely blind.

Frowning, Zuko removed the visor from his face and traced a path on the city map with his finger. Years of training and a natural instinct for stealth had taught him how to calculate the places where guards might be stationed. Zuko could already see what areas he would have to avoid and which ones he would have to take very cautiously so as not to be caught. The task was not impossible, though—especially if he waited until after the first strike when everyone would be too busy dealing with the wounded and the aftermath of battle to keep a close watch on all of the city passageways. A whole army might not be able to slip through, but one sixteen-year-old firebender with a knack for hiding in the shadows definitely could.

Zuko circled a small part of the city perimeter with his fingertip. "There," he murmured. "That's the spot."

From what he could tell, that was the only section where he could safely attempt to scale the wall and enter the city. There was a watchtower nearby, but every lookout position had a blind spot; Zuko was sure he could figure something out. After that he'd just have to hope that luck would be on his side and that he'd find the Avatar before the second strike began, as he had no doubt that the kid would join the other warriors in attacking the fleet. By then it would be too late to attempt another capture. Zuko knew that he had to get this right the first time.

Rolling the maps back up, Zuko got to his feet and crossed over to the small crate where he had been keeping his belongings. He placed the scrolls down and then reached inside the crate, pulling out the white combat suit he'd found while rummaging through the cargo hold and which had been specifically designed to camouflage with the Northern Water Tribe landscape. There was no time to waste now; he could tell from the way the screams and explosions were beginning to quieten that the battle was drawing to a close. Soon, he would have to leave.

Zuko removed the helmet from his head and then started stripping off his guard uniform. His breathing sharpened slightly as he unstrapped the leather armour that had been protecting his chest, feeling a shock of pain lance through his broken ribs. Now that just might be a problem, and he tried not to think of the agony he was going to feel when he scaled the wall or had to firebend. Even just breathing still hurt like hell.

_Suck it up! _he told himself brutally. _You've dealt with worse pain than this._

And it was true, but Zuko knew that capturing the Avatar was going to be that much more difficult because of his injuries. Ideally, he should have waited to infiltrate the city when he was fully healed or at least not wandering around with three broken ribs, but there was no time for playing the good invalid. He would just have to tough the pain out, though he did wish that he still had his dual dao swords. At least then he wouldn't have to rely solely on firebending, which could only be used effectively through correct breathing control.

_I'll just have to avoid bending as much as possible_, he thought grimly as he tugged on the white combat suit.

No need to push himself more than he had to, though Zuko knew that he would fight to the death if the situation called for it. He did not plan on leaving empty handed again tonight—not after everything that had happened. This was his last chance to return home; his last chance to capture the Avatar before Zhao. He had to succeed, no matter what the cost.

"I won't fail this time," Zuko swore under his breath. "Make no mistake, Zhao, I will capture the Avatar before you."

But for now Zuko would watch and wait. The battle was almost over. When the screams finally fell silent and the catapults no longer fired, he would make his move.

**oOo**

The moon was already unveiling its face when the Fire Nation ships ceased fire. Katara met up with Yue outside the chief's temple and waited for the rest of the warriors to return from the frontlines. Neither wanted to say what they were really thinking; Katara was still trying to get the image of seeing a waterbender be crushed by a lump of burning coal out of her mind. She hadn't even known his name, but that hadn't stopped her from collapsing to her knees and retching as soon as the initial rush of adrenaline wore off. War, she had quickly discovered, was an ugly, brutal thing. She was in no rush to go out into the battlefield again, no matter how bravely she had fought that day.

Suddenly, Katara saw the welcome sight of a ten ton bison descending from the sky. "Aang!" she cried, running up to meet the boy.

Aang slid down from Appa and slumped to the ground. "I can't do it," he said, holding his head in his hands. "I just can't do it."

"What happened?" Katara asked, stopping in front of him.

"I must have taken out a dozen Fire Nation ships, but there's just too many of them." He hugged his knees to his chest and averted his face. "I can't fight them all."

"But you have to," Yue said, staring at him in faint dismay. "You're the Avatar."

Aang looked up at the two girls helplessly. "I'm just one kid."

Katara watched as Aang buried his face into his knees, his whole posture screaming of defeat. Wordlessly, she knelt down beside him and pulled the boy into her arms, holding him close. His body trembled against her, and she could feel the damp trails of his tears gathering on her overcoat.

"It's alright, Aang," Katara murmured. "You tried your best. No one can expect more from you than that."

"It wasn't enough," he said in a voice choked with tears. "I tried and tried and it just wasn't enough."

Katara closed her eyes, feeling her heart break at the sound of his distress. "Aang—"

"I fail everyone!" he shouted, trembling more violently in her hold. "I let the Air Nomads die, and now I can't even—I can't—"

"Shh," Katara said, clutching him tighter. "It's okay, Aang. This isn't your fault."

"It's not okay! I'm the Avatar! I should be able to protect these people, and I just—I just—"

"You're just one kid," she said, echoing his own words.

He pulled back in surprise and met her gaze through tear-filled grey eyes. Katara smiled and wiped some of the moisture away from his cheeks.

"Don't worry, Aang," she said. "We'll figure something out."

"Katara is right," Yue agreed. "My father has a plan to infiltrate the Fire Nation navy, and don't forget that we have Tui and La on our side. I'm sure that the spirits will not let the city fall."

"The spirits!" Aang cried, leaping back to his feet. "That's it!"

"That's what?" Katara asked, blinking at her friend's sudden change in mood.

Aang swung around to face her. "Maybe if I find the spirits I can get their help."

"How can you do that?" Yue asked.

Katara smiled, catching on. "The Avatar is the bridge between our world and the Spirit World." She got to her feet and placed a hand on Aang's shoulder, then looked back at Yue. "Aang can talk to them."

Yue stared hopefully at Aang. "Maybe they can give you the wisdom you need to win this battle."

"Or maybe they'll unleash a crazy, amazing spirit attack on the Fire Nation!" Aang exclaimed, throwing his arms out in the gesture of an explosion.

Katara and Yue just stared.

"Or wisdom," Aang amended, clasping his hands behind his back. "Wisdom is good, too."

"Yeah, but there's just one problem," Katara said, frowning at the younger boy. "The last time you entered the Spirit World it was an accident. How are you going to get there this time?"

Aang's shoulders slumped forward; he was clearly stumped by this question.

"Wait, I have an idea," Yue said, turning back towards the temple. "Follow me!"

Katara and Aang exchanged confused glances, but decided to trust the princess. They soon discovered that Yue's idea was to take them to the centre of all spiritual energy in the North Pole, where she believed that Aang might be able to communicate with the spirits. Looking around at the lush garden and feeling the unusual warmth of the oasis, Katara had to admit that if any place in the city was going to allow Aang to create a bridge to the Spirit World, this would be it. She just hoped it would be enough.

"Come on, Aang," she muttered under her breath, glancing over to where the boy was meditating.

He had been at it for almost half an hour, just sitting in front of the pool with the two koi fish swimming round in front of him and waiting for something to happen. She knew that time was running out. The warriors had mentioned that the Fire Nation fleet would most likely attack again at dawn. If Aang was going to get help from the spirits, it had to be tonight.

Katara looked up to where the moon glowed as a silvery disc in the sky. _Please let this work_, she silently begged. _Please, just let this work._

There would be no Blue Spirit to help them tonight, but maybe another spirit could. Maybe the Moon and Ocean Spirits would hear their pleas. For now, all she could do was wait and hope.

**oOo**

Zuko tested the pulleys keeping the kayak aloft and then started untangling a length of rope. He paused at the sound of the escape hatch door opening and closing. He didn't need to look to know who was standing behind him.

"If you're fishing for an octopus, my nephew, you need a tightly woven net or he will squeeze through the tiniest hole and escape."

Zuko repressed a sigh. "I don't need your wisdom right now, Uncle."

Iroh walked a little further into the room. "I'm sorry. I just nag you because, well—" His voice choked up and he looked the other way. "Ever since I lost my son—"

Zuko closed his eyes. "Uncle, you don't have to say it."

"I think of you as my own."

Something warm settled in the pit of Zuko's stomach. Almost helplessly, he turned to face the older man. He had always known that his uncle cared for him, but to hear the words stated so frankly, so sincerely—somehow, that made all the difference. Brown eyes met gold, and in that moment every fibre in Zuko's body suggested that he should return the gesture, but the prince had long ago lost the ability to be open with his affections. Much as he yearned to tell his uncle that he loved him, the words simply would not come. So Zuko did the only thing he could do to express how he felt. He bowed in a sign of deep respect.

"I know, Uncle," Zuko said softly, and then he straightened to his full height. "We will meet again—"

Iroh suddenly pulled him into a tight embrace. Zuko awkwardly allowed his arms to rest around his uncle for a brief moment before he stepped back.

"—after I capture the Avatar," Zuko finished with finality.

He turned and stepped inside the kayak, grasping the two ropes that would allow him to guide the boat to the water. Iroh watched him sadly for a moment, looking torn and somehow so much older than usual. Zuko tried not to let the image of that care-worn face bother him as he began to lower the kayak.

"Zuko, wait!"

Again, Zuko repressed a sigh. "What is it, Uncle?"

"There is something I have been meaning to ask you. It's about what happened after the explosion, back when I was dressing your wounds in the tavern."

"Can't this wait?" Zuko demanded in exasperation. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of in a hurry."

Iroh stared at his nephew for a long moment, hesitated, and then nodded his head. "You're right. We will discuss the matter later."

Zuko exhaled soundlessly and continued to lower the boat. Before he had moved an inch, however, his uncle was once more calling advice out to him.

"Remember your breath of fire," Iroh said, taking a step forward. "It could save your life out there."

"I will."

"And put your hood up! Keep your ears warm!"

"I'll be fine!" Zuko responded a bit more impatiently.

Iroh fell silent, but Zuko could still feel his uncle watching him as he touched down on the ocean with his kayak. He released the ropes that had kept the boat bound to the larger vessel and then picked up the paddle resting near his feet. Zuko knew that he would only feel worse if he looked back, so he kept his gaze fixed ahead as he began to steer the kayak towards the city. Despite his resolve not to meet his uncle's gaze, however, he still felt as if something was breaking inside of him.

"_Ever since I lost my son ... I think of you as my own."_

Zuko clenched his jaw and drove the paddle into the water with swift, determined strokes, forcing the kayak to go faster. Now was not the time to let himself be distracted by personal feelings. He had to focus on capturing the Avatar.

Careful to avoid the direct path of the watchtowers and outer wall, Zuko weaved his way through the icebergs and headed towards the rough expanse of shore he had circled on the map. He dragged the kayak up onto the ice cap so that it would not float away, then looked up at the wall to scout out a good place to start climbing. A low hiss escaped his mouth when he saw the warriors patrolling the upper rim. Apparently, he had been wrong in thinking this section would be less guarded.

Frustrated, he turned to look around for another way into the city when he spotted a group of turtle seals diving into an opening in the ice not far from him. His uncle would tell him he was crazy for even contemplating to follow the creatures, but Zuko knew that he was running out of options. If there were warriors patrolling such a useless part of the wall as this one then there were bound to be even more guarding the other sections. He would just have to take his chances and hope that the underwater tunnel would lead to the city. Besides, the turtle seals had to be coming up for air somewhere.

Not giving himself a moment to rethink his decision, Zuko sucked in a deep breath and dived into the water. Immediately, his nerves were attacked with a thousand daggers of pain, but he forced his limbs to move despite the extreme cold and followed the path he could see outlined ahead. By the time he reached the opening where the turtle seals came up for air, his vision had begun to blur and he could barely find the strength to lift himself out of the water. He collapsed in a heap on the ice, gasping for breath and feeling his heart beat in a sickeningly weak flutter in his chest. Then the shivering started, almost crippling him from the intensity, and forcing him to curl up into himself in a futile attempt to get warm.

Remembering his uncle's advice, Zuko steadied his breathing as much as he could with three broken ribs and—what seemed to him—a pair of frozen lungs; then he used his breath of fire twice, letting the warmth rush through his veins to restore his internal body heat. The flames were pathetically small and weak, but they still did the trick. He could move again, though the influx of heat only seemed to emphasise all the aches and sharp stabs of pain that had assailed his body ever since his ship had been destroyed. It didn't help that the turtle seals wouldn't stop barking at him either.

Pushing himself to his knees, Zuko swung around to glare at his animal companions. "Be quiet!" he snapped.

The turtle seals, mercifully, fell silent. Zuko got to his feet and pushed past the slippery creatures to head deeper into the cave, where he discovered another opening in the ice with water rushing through. Entering that icy death-trap was the last thing he felt like doing, but Zuko knew he could not turn back now. Steeling himself, he grabbed hold of the wall and began to climb, all the while struggling against the current that tried to force him back. It was a slow and painful trek, and by the time he emerged at the next air pocket he was even more worn out than he had been after swimming through the first passageway.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, the thought that he might die in these caves was becoming a very real possibility. Another person might have given up in that moment; Zuko simply took in a deep breath and headed back under the freezing water to enter the tunnel he had spotted in the bottom left corner. Up and up he went through the passage, using every ounce of energy he had just to keep his legs and arms moving, and then he saw the light.

_Yes!_ he thought, realising he must be nearing the exit.

That was when he discovered the barrier of ice. He rammed his fist against the frozen opening, but his arms felt sluggish and weak. There was no way he would be able to break it. Panicking, he suddenly found himself swallowing a mouthful of water and probably would have drowned right then and there had he not remembered that, though he could not create actual fire while underwater, he could create heat.

Zuko immediately raised his hands to the barrier and called the fire to his palms, letting the temperature build to boiling level. As soon as the ice had softened enough, he pushed through the obstruction and managed to find just enough energy to haul himself up onto solid ground before he collapsed in utter exhaustion. Breathing raggedly, he took a quick scan of his surroundings and realised that he had made it inside the city; however, that was of little comfort to Zuko in that moment. He was cold, tired and in pain. He also never wanted to go swimming in freezing water again.

Closing his eyes, Zuko once more used his breath of fire to restore his body temperature to normal and then just lay there for a moment, trying to recuperate his energy. Next time he was definitely _not_ going to follow the turtle seals.

**oOo**

Aang gasped and clutched a hand to his heart, collapsing to his knees in the muddy swamp. It was that feeling again—the awful one that made him feel like something cold had reached inside of him and snatched away a part of himself. He breathed in deeply, allowing the dizziness and urge to retch to pass, but a faint throbbing in his shoulder remained.

"Zuko," Aang murmured, touching the spot where the arrow had pierced his flesh.

He wanted nothing more in that moment than to return back to the world of the living and make sure that Zuko was alright. The ache in his chest told him that something had happened, and it physically pained him to think that, even now, Zuko might be out there suffering with no one to help. Except Aang was currently stuck in the Spirit World, and as much as he wanted to help the prince, he also knew that he had to find the Moon and Ocean Spirits first. The entire Northern Water Tribe was counting on him.

Scrambling back to his feet, Aang looked around for the orb of light that he had been following, but all he saw was a wall of trees. He sighed and started trudging in what he hoped was the right direction when the patch of swamp in front of him started to glow a pale blue. Surprised, Aang stepped back just as the ghostly form of an old man in Fire Nation robes appeared on the surface of the water.

"Avatar Roku!" Aang exclaimed, grinning in relief.

"Hello, Aang," Roku responded with a kindly smile. "It is good to see you again."

Aang didn't bother to waste time with pleasantries and jumped right in to explaining his predicament. Roku listened thoughtfully, but the answer he gave was not the one that Aang had been hoping to hear. Apparently, the Moon and Ocean Spirits had crossed over to the mortal world and there was now only one being of whom Roku knew that might be able to help: Koh, a dangerous spirit who was known for stealing the faces of people who showed any emotion around him.

"Sounds like a great guy," Aang said, swallowing back a lump of fear.

Roku's brow creased in concern. "I wish there was another way, but Koh is the only one who might know where the Ocean and Moon Spirits have chosen to reside in the mortal world. I am sorry, Aang."

"It's okay. I'll just be extra cautious."

Roku still didn't look happy, but both he and Aang knew it was the Avatar's job to take such risks. There was nothing either of them could do. That was when Aang remembered the awful feeling he had got earlier.

"Um, Roku?" he said hesitantly.

"Yes, Aang?"

Aang glanced down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. "Well, um, it's just that I've been getting these weird feelings of late, and I was just wondering if—"

"Ah." Roku let out a deep sigh. "You are speaking of your spiritual connection with my great-grandson."

Aang blinked. "Prince Zuko is your great-grandson? But that's just—" A crease suddenly formed on his brow. "Wait, did you just say I have a spiritual connection with Zuko?"

Roku nodded.

"But how? I don't understand."

A sad smile curved Roku's mouth. "There was a time when the Fire Nation called them the children of the Undying Fire—select sons and daughters of Agni who could commune with the very essence that gives us life. It was an incredibly rare gift; you were either born a child of the Undying Fire or you were not. Not even the greatest firebending masters could hope to use their inner flame in such a way unless they had been born with the capability."

"Wait, are we still talking about Zuko?" Aang asked.

Roku nodded. "My great-grandson is a very special young man. He has the ability to heal, as you discovered for yourself when he used his powers to save your life. In fact, I believe it is because he chose to heal you that you now feel this connection with him."

"I don't understand," Aang said, scrunching up his face in confusion. "Katara has healed me plenty of times and I don't—"

"That is because Katara is a waterbender," Roku interjected. "You have to understand, Aang. You weren't just wounded; you were dying from loss of blood. That is what makes the children of the Undying Fire so special; they can use their inner fire to create life even if the spark that keeps a person alive has almost gone out. In Prince Zuko's case, he let his own energy flow into you so that he could restore the loss of your chi and replenish your blood at an unnaturally fast rate. I expect it was this fusion of energy that formed the spiritual bond between the two of you."

Aang's eyes widened. "So you're saying that he gave up a part of himself to heal me?"

"In a sense." Roku shook his head and let out a small sigh. "I do not have all of the answers. The children of the Undying Fire were a rare kind of firebender whose power and history was lost to the world a long time ago—even before my time. What I can tell you is that what you are feeling now is a result of your connection to Prince Zuko; it is your body's way of telling you that your spirit is hurting. In reality, you've just been sensing that the spiritual bond joining you to the prince is about to be cut. It is a shadow of his pain as well as an echo of the wound that he healed."

Something cold settled in the pit of Aang's stomach. "Roku," he said in a surprisingly small voice, "what does it mean if the bond is cut?"

The silence that followed was answer enough. Aang closed his eyes, feeling the cold spread inside him until his heart felt frosted with ice. That was twice now. Twice he had felt Zuko almost die.

"I am sorry, Aang," Roku said gently. "Such bonds have never been easy burdens to bear. I can see that you care for my great-grandson deeply. He is lucky to have you as a friend."

_I don't even know if I can call him my friend_, Aang wanted to say. Instead, he placed his fists together and bowed in the manner of the Air Nomads.

"Thank you for telling me this, Roku," Aang said, straightening to his full height.

He was grateful to understand why he kept having those awful feelings, but right now he knew that he could do nothing for Zuko. He had to find Koh and the Moon and Ocean Spirits before it was too late. That and he just really didn't want to dwell on the fact that the boy who had chased him all over the world had almost died twice, and Aang had been right there feeling it with him.

"Prince Zuko is strong," Roku said, understanding the reasoning behind Aang's reticence. "He will not be easily defeated."

"I know," Aang said quietly.

But that didn't stop him from feeling sick with worry. Zuko might be a powerful warrior, but Aang had seen for himself how reckless the prince could be. It didn't help that it was just a few minutes ago that he had felt their connection almost be severed.

_You'd better still be there when I get back, Zuko. _

Aang still had much he wanted to say to the prince of the Fire Nation. For now, however, he had to focus on saving the Northern Water Tribe, and to do that he had to put all emotion aside. There was no way he was going to let Koh steal his face.

**oOo**

The moon had reached its peak by the time Zuko discovered the small wooden door that led to the Spirit Oasis. Somehow, he just knew that this was the place where Aang was hiding, and he had not been disappointed. Glancing around the lush trees and flowers, he spotted a familiar boy sitting cross-legged in front of a pool of water. Zuko saw that Aang's eyes were glowing a brilliant white, as was the arrow on his forehead. The kid must have shifted into the Avatar State. That could pose a problem, but then Zuko noticed the two girls standing a few feet behind the Avatar, one of whom he recognised as the same waterbender that was always travelling around with Aang. Zuko frowned. Something wasn't right here. He decided to wait and listen a moment to see if he could gather any information regarding the situation.

"Is he okay?" Zuko heard the girl with the white hair ask.

"He's crossing into the Spirit World," the waterbender answered. "He'll be fine as long as we don't move his body. That's his way back to the physical world."

Zuko smiled grimly. If what those two girls said was true, then that meant the Avatar was currently helpless. It was more than he could have hoped for, as now all he had to do was get the rid of the Water Tribe girls. That shouldn't be too much of a problem. He remembered how useless the waterbender had been at manipulating her element from when he had captured her with the pirates; the other girl didn't even look like a fighter.

"Maybe we should get some help," the girl with the white hair said, turning to leave.

The waterbender—Katara, Zuko reminded himself—gave a reassuring look to her friend. "No. He's my friend. I'm perfectly capable of protecting him."

Zuko stepped out from his hiding place. "Well, aren't you a big girl now," he observed mockingly.

Katara turned at the sound of his voice. "No," she breathed.

"Yes," he responded in a satisfied hiss. He advanced towards her and his eyes narrowed as he stopped on the bridge that led to where Aang was meditating. "Hand him over and I won't have to hurt you."

For answer, the girl took up a bending stance. Zuko's jaw clenched. He did not want to fight. He was still exhausted from his swim through the underwater caves, it hurt every time he breathed, and he was quite certain that the stitches on his back had split open again. Even now he could feel the sticky blood pooling down his spine and the sharp sting of flesh being tugged apart. As he met those narrowed blue eyes, however, something told him that she would not listen to reason, nor would she let herself be intimidated. The waterbender wanted to fight.

Zuko let out a deep breath and compartmentalised every ache in his body to the far reaches of his mind, letting him focus his thoughts solely on the heat of his inner fire. Without warning, he unleashed a string of fireballs at the girl, attacking in quick succession as he pushed closer with each punch and kick. He knew that his only chance was to finish this battle quickly; as soon as he got within close-combat range, he was going to hit her with a knockout blow and that would be the end of it.

Or, at least, that was the original plan. When the girl kept deflecting his blows and then retaliated with a large water whip that sent him flying backwards and landing face-first on the ground, he realised that he might have underestimated his opponent. He would have been impressed under better circumstances. As it was, the knowledge that she was a better bender than he had thought just made him grit his teeth with frustration.

"I see you've learnt a new trick," Zuko commented, getting back to his feet, "but I didn't come this far to lose to you."

Swinging around to face her, he released a stream of fire that should have knocked her clean off her feet. Katara diverted the flames with a shield of water and brought her arms around again in a flow of icy liquid that she then sent surging towards him. Zuko had no time to defend; the attack hit him directly in the chest, pushing him back several steps and making him gasp as his broken ribs took the brunt of the impact. Black dots swarmed before his eyes, but he shoved the pain ruthlessly aside. He tried to shift his body into an offensive stance when he realised that he couldn't move; his feet were frozen.

An aggravated growl escaped his throat. Before he could free his feet, however, he was suddenly surrounded by a cage of water that quickly solidified into ice as the girl weaved her arms round and round, trapping him in place. Zuko's eyes narrowed into two gold slits as he saw the smug smile that graced her lips.

"You little peasant," he spat viciously. "You've found a master, haven't you?"

Anger bubbled through his veins, joining with the heat of his inner flame and spreading outwards in thick waves of rage. The ice dome he was trapped in glowed red as the intensity of his fury pierced through the inner shell. Vibrations shook through the dome and then the heat around him reached boiling point and the ice exploded in a hundred jagged shards. Zuko lunged forward with flames trailing from his fingertips, advancing upon the waterbender with renewed vigour as he dodged and attacked his way into closing the distance between them. When he was almost in close-combat range, the girl crouched into the kata he knew signalled that she was about to use another water whip.

_Oh, no you don't_, he thought grimly.

Moving with lightning speed, he brought his fist up in a hard uppercut to her jaw, and it was by sheer luck that she managed to avoid the blow. Zuko immediately retaliated with a downward thrust, which she blocked with her water-shielded forearm. Their eyes met in an intense glare, and then he slashed at her from the left in a stream of flames, not even giving her a moment to catch her breath as he followed up with another slash to her right, which came dangerously close to grazing her cheek. She gasped and looked at him in some alarm; Zuko remained unmoved. He knew that in some cultures it was frowned upon for a male to physically hit a female, but in the Fire Nation the only mercy one showed was to the defenceless. If a woman chose to become a warrior, she would have to accept the pain that came with that. For Zuko, Katara had already made her choice. He was not going to back down—especially not when he could feel his own stamina failing. He _had_ to end this fight quickly.

Clenching his jaw in determination, Zuko attacked her with a series of ruthless fire punches that had her dodging and twisting around him like the element she encompassed, drawing them closer until they were almost chest-to-chest. He had to admit that she was good, but she was still no match for him when it came to close-range fighting. He knew he had her trapped on the defensive, and the moment he saw his opening he struck at her with a reverse side kick that sent a plume of flames up at her face. She cried out and covered her eyes, and he took advantage of her momentary blindness to slip past her and make a grab for the Avatar. If he couldn't defeat the stupid girl, he'd just have to take the kid and run.

Closing his fingers around the soft fabric of Aang's collar, Zuko turned to leave when a bullet of water rammed into his chest, forcing him to release his grip and shoving him hard up against the cliff. He blinked dazedly, desperately trying to breathe through the pain crushing his lungs. It was just his luck to be hit in his one vulnerable spot twice in one battle. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn there was a sign on his chest that said 'Please send all attacks here; I have broken ribs'. As it was, the girl had just had a lot of dumb luck.

_Damn that little peasant!_

It was the last conscious thought he managed. Before he could even think about getting back to his feet, the waterbender summoned an impressive amount of water from the oasis and shoved him even more fiercely up against the cliff-face, building bruises upon bruises. In seconds he was imprisoned in a large encasement of ice, leaving only a part of his upper body free so he could breathe. It didn't make much difference, though; the moment Zuko's head had struck against the wall he had passed out cold.

**oOo**

After her fight with Prince Zuko, Katara had made sure to keep a close eye on her surroundings in case any more firebenders tried to sneak up on her. She couldn't believe how close she had come to losing Aang. Granted, it was the first time she had fought against the prince in one-on-one combat and, much to her dismay, she had quickly discovered that engaging with a skilled firebender was very different to training with the other waterbenders while under Master Pakku's tutelage. Zuko had not hesitated; he had come at her again and again, releasing offensive attack after offensive attack in a relentless effort to wear her down. Still, she had managed to beat him in the end, if only by a fraction.

Katara cast an uneasy glance at the figure trapped in the ice, but Zuko still seemed to be unconscious. Good. The last thing she wanted was to have to deal with him again. She shifted her attention back to Aang and wondered how long it would take for him to find the Ocean and Moon Spirits. The sun was already beginning to rise; she knew the next attack would start soon, yet their one hope of stopping the Fire Nation was still trapped in the Spirit World.

"Please hurry, Aang," Katara murmured. "We need you."

Aang simply continued to sit there with his eyes closed, oblivious to the world around him while his spirit journeyed along unseen paths. Katara sighed and turned to do another circuit of what she had privately taken to calling her 'guard duty', only to pause when she heard a familiar growl from the direction of the cliff. She spun around to see flames soaring directly for her, streaming forth from the burning palms of an enraged Fire Nation prince. Katara brought up a quick water shield, but the attack pushed right through her defences and hit her square in the stomach, knocking her back with a painful thud against a tree trunk. Dizzily, she raised her eyes to see Zuko standing over her with one hand gripping the back of Aang's cape. From this vantage point, he almost seemed to be glowing with the golden shades of dawn.

"You rise with the moon," Zuko said, looking down at her with a hard glint in his eyes. "I rise with the sun."

Katara breathed in deeply, barely hearing his words as the prince faded in and out of view while she struggled to stay conscious. A flash of pale gold caught her attention, and she focussed on the colour in an attempt to stay alert—anything to stop Zuko from getting away; however, the pull of oblivion was too much. Her vision hazed over with black and she slumped helplessly to the ground, too weak and disorientated to move. The last thing she remembered before she slipped into unconsciousness was the image of a pair of pale gold eyes. Prince Zuko's eyes.

When she awoke, both boys were gone.

* * *

Certain sections from this chapter have been based on scenes from the episode 'The Siege of the North: Part I'. Some of the dialogue has also been paraphrased and directly quoted from this episode. And, yes, I did decide to combine the two scenes where Aang, Katara and Yue are talking. It just saved time that way. ^_~


	7. A Question of Honour

Kimberly T pointed out that, in the previous chapter, it seemed a bit strange for Roku to have not told Aang that Zuko is his great-grandson, given the nature of the boys' relationship in this particular fic. I agreed and have edited the scene accordingly. Just putting that out there before you all start wondering why Aang suddenly knows that Zuko is Roku's great-grandson.

* * *

**A Question of Honour**

The snow fields of the North Pole were known to be dangerous. The landscape itself was nothing more than a vast expanse of rugged cliffs and ice, creating a barren wasteland of white that could drop to freezing temperatures in a heartbeat and lure even the most seasoned of travellers into getting lost down treacherous paths. Zuko had known this, but he had also been desperate. After defeating the waterbender and claiming his cataleptic prize, he had tried to leave back through the city, but by then the second strike had already started and the Fire Nation infantry had breached the wall. Zuko had been forced to find a different route, not willing to risk being caught when he had finally captured the Avatar. That was how he'd ended up attempting to cross the snow fields.

It was not the smartest choice he had ever made—Zuko could admit that—but he had thought that anything had to be better than swimming through the underwater caverns again. He was wrong. Trudging through a thick layer of snow in a hostile climate was challenging enough when at full health; Zuko was still finding it difficult just to breathe, let alone walk, after the recent battering his body had taken during his fight at the Spirit Oasis. Add to that the burden of carrying the deadweight of a twelve-year-old boy and it was a wonder he didn't just collapse on the spot.

But Zuko was not one to give up. The raw boost of energy he had received from the sun had been enough to get him back on his feet and moving, and an unshakable drive to survive had done the rest. So when the blizzard set in and made it nigh impossible for him to see, not to mention lowered the temperature to the point where he felt as if the marrow was freezing in his bones, Zuko merely gritted his teeth and pushed forward; when the snow thickened around his legs and impeded his mobility, he only pushed harder; and when the ice started cracking underneath his boots, almost plunging the two boys to their deaths, Zuko simply accepted that the spirits hated him and wondered what obstacle they would throw at him next. Either way, he didn't plan on curling up in defeat.

That was why the prince was surprised when he spotted a cavern just ahead of him. Relieved, of course, but still surprised. He'd never had much luck—the fact that he had almost died twice in the past forty-eight hours was a testament of that—but he wasn't about to look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth either. No matter how impatient he might be to return to his uncle with the Avatar, Zuko knew that he and Aang would not survive if they stayed out in the blizzard any longer. So he simply took a tighter grasp on Aang and ploughed his way through the snow to the frozen hollow. Once inside, he dumped the younger boy on the ground and then paused to examine his surroundings. The cave turned out to be smaller than he had thought, but it at least stopped the icy daggers of wind from piercing through his clothes and freezing his already chilled body. Besides, it was the only form of shelter Zuko had seen for hours. He thought that it would do for now.

Zuko glanced down at the boy sprawled near his feet. Aang's tattoos and closed eyes were still glowing, casting an eerie light throughout the cavern, yet he did not appear to be aware of the change in his surroundings. Zuko sighed and removed the rope he'd been keeping slung over his shoulder, then knelt down and tightly bound Aang's arms and legs so that the younger boy would not be able to run should he wake. A niggling voice whispered in Zuko's mind that what he was doing was not the honourable way to go about completing his task, but he pushed the thought aside. He didn't have the luxury of using honourable tactics anymore. Zhao had forced his hand, and that meant Zuko had to take what he could get—even if it meant catching and incapacitating the Avatar before he could defend himself.

Finishing the last knot, Zuko settled himself on the opposite side of the cave and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and just rest—rest until all his aches and pains were gone. But he was stuck in the middle of a blizzard and could not afford to let his guard down. For one thing, the cold would surely kill him; for another, even when bound with ropes, the Avatar was still as slippery as the octopus from his uncle Iroh's proverb. It would be just his luck to have the kid run off the moment he fell asleep.

Zuko sighed again and rubbed his palms together, trying to warm his numb fingers. When that failed, he blew a small breath of flames into his hands. Heat immediately spread throughout his body, but the sudden pain that constricted his diaphragm had him letting out a low hiss. Damn that Water Tribe peasant. He had been unable to check to see how much, if any, damage had been done to his broken ribs after that second attack to his chest, but the fact that Katara had hit him in his weak spot at all still made him furious. His only consolation was that he had managed to wipe the smug grin off her face.

"Not that it makes much difference now," Zuko muttered, glancing over at the cave opening where he could still see the blizzard swirling around in a whirlpool of white.

He could be heading off to the Fire Nation right now with the Avatar, but instead he was stuck in this cave, weak and wounded like some dying animal. It was just another setback in a long list of failures. Of course, the irony was that this time he actually had the Avatar in his grasp; he just couldn't do anything about it.

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "There's always something," he said through gritted teeth, and his gaze flickered back to Aang. "You wouldn't understand. You're like my sister. Everything always came easy to her. She's a firebending prodigy and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky; he says I was lucky to be born."

Aang inhaled a deep breath.

Zuko clenched his hands into fists and stood up, walking over to the cave mouth. "I don't need luck, though," he continued in a low voice, more to himself. "I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight, and that's made me strong." He closed his eyes. "It's made me who I am."

He would never give up, no matter how many obstacles were thrown in his path. Pain was nothing to him; failure was just something he had got used to, but even if he failed a thousand more times to achieve his goals, he would still keep fighting. He would still keep pushing ahead, because he wasn't like Azula and Aang. He didn't need to have the spirits' favour to succeed.

Zuko made his own luck, and he would overcome anything—_anything_—that got in his way.

**oOo**

The blizzard was getting worse. Katara pulled her hood closer around her face and peered out through the lashes of snow, searching for any glimpse of life. It had been several hours since she had woken up in the Spirit Oasis to find the prince gone and Momo sitting in the empty spot where Aang had been meditating. After Yue had arrived back with Sokka—who, it turned out, had been reassigned to protect the princess—Katara had explained what had happened and then they had all clambered aboard Appa to search for the two boys, leaving Momo behind in the oasis to keep watch should Aang return. They had been searching ever since, but they hadn't found a single trace of their quarry—not even a few tracks in the snow.

"Don't worry," Yue said, catching sight of Katara's anxious expression. "Prince Zuko can't be getting too far in this weather."

Katara looked the other way. "I'm not worried that they'll get away in the blizzard; I'm worried that they won't."

"They're not going to die in this blizzard," Sokka stated bluntly, glancing over his shoulder. "If we know anything it's that Zuko never gives up." His eyes narrowed. "They'll survive, and we'll find them."

Katara bit her lip. Maybe Sokka was right. She had seen for herself how determined Zuko could be, but that still didn't ease the knot of worry building in her chest. If something happened to Aang, she would never be able to forgive herself.

_Please, just let him be safe_. _Please, just let us find him alive._

**oOo**

Aang opened his eyes with a gasp as his spirit merged back with his body. He suddenly became aware of something tight restricting his arms and legs, and he wriggled uncomfortably, feeling the burn of rope dig into his skin. That was when he noticed the boy standing opposite him, watching him through pale gold eyes.

"Zuko!" he exclaimed.

"Welcome back," Zuko said calmly.

Aang just stared at the prince, torn between relief and dismay. Relief because now he knew for certain that Zuko was alive, even if the teen did look a little worse for wear. However, Aang was also tied up and had a feeling that his captor wasn't going to allow him to leave anytime soon. Still, Aang had to try. The Moon and Ocean Spirits were depending on him.

"Zuko, you have to let me go back to the Spirit Oasis," Aang said, struggling into a sitting position. "The spirits are in danger, and—"

"You're not going anywhere."

"But you don't understand. Koh told me that—"

"Enough!" Zuko glared at him, his hands balled into smoking fists. "I didn't go through all of that trouble to capture you to then just let you walk out of here simply because you asked me nicely. You're staying right where you are, and when this blizzard has passed I'm going to take you back to my uncle, and then we're going to get the hell out of this freezing dump so I can go home!"

"But—"

"No!" Zuko yelled, slashing his hand angrily through the air. "I don't care what you say! I don't care how many spirits are in danger! I've had enough! I finally have a chance to take you back to my father and I am not going to waste it, so you are just going to sit there and keep your stupid mouth shut until we leave! Got it?"

Aang shook his head. "I can't do that. As the Avatar, it's my duty to keep balance in the world. That balance is about to be broken." He looked up at the older boy imploringly. "Please, Zuko, you have to let me go. I'm the only one who can protect the Moon and Ocean Spirits. If I'm not there—"

"Enough," Zuko repeated, though his voice was much softer this time.

"But—"

"I'm not letting you leave," Zuko said with finality.

Aang's shoulders slumped. "We've helped each other before," he said in a small voice. "What makes it so different this time?"

Zuko laughed bitterly. "You really are just a naïve child, aren't you?"

A crease formed on Aang's brow. He didn't understand. When he said as much, Zuko crossed over to the cave opening and looked out into the blizzard, keeping his back turned to Aang.

"What do you think would happen if I let you go now?" Zuko asked after a moment.

Aang paused to consider the matter. "Well, I don't know, but at least no one would be able to kill the Moon or Ocean Spirits."

"Right, but then what happens afterwards?"

"I, um—"

"You've just saved your precious spirits and then what?" Zuko persisted in a hard voice, turning around to face Aang. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe that you're just going to wrap yourself up in those ropes again and then come back to the Fire Nation with me?"

"Well, uh—"

"Of course you're not going to!" Zuko glared at Aang through furious gold eyes. "That's what you don't understand! All those times I let you go; all those times I _helped_ you, as you put it—none of that did any good for me! My task for almost three years has been to capture you—_you_, the Avatar." He let out another bitter laugh. "But I let you go. I thought I could be _honourable_."

His mouth twisted around the last word, as if it were something physically painful to speak. Aang felt a stab of sympathy go through him.

"Zuko—"

"Well, I'm not going to make the same mistake twice," Zuko continued, clenching his hands into fists. "I told you at the river that I would not show you mercy the next time we met, and I meant it. You shouldn't have trusted that Water Tribe peasant to protect you if you hadn't wanted to be caught. Now it's too late."

Aang chewed on his bottom lip. "You know, Zuko, your father might have asked you to capture me, but it doesn't have to be this way. You can still—"

Zuko let out a growl of frustration. "You just don't get it, do you? I can't stop! I can't just ignore my father's orders. If I let you go again today, that's it! I'm finished!"

"I don't und—"

"Of course you don't understand!" Zuko snarled. "How could you ever understand? You're an Air Nomad! You don't have a real home or family, but I—" He broke off suddenly and averted his face, hiding his expression from view. "It's been almost three years. I'm the prince of the Fire Nation and I can't even step one foot on my country's soil unless I capture you." His hands trembled slightly and his voice softened to the barest whisper. "I just want to go home."

Aang let out a small breath, shocked by the vulnerability of that quiet confession. If he hadn't witnessed it for himself, he would not have believed it to be possible from the normally fierce prince. Before Aang could say anything, however, a jet of water flashed past him and struck Zuko in the chest, shoving the teen hard against the wall. There was an awful gasp, and Aang's eyes widened as he realised the sound had come from Zuko—the same boy who had never once made a sound of pain during all of their fights together. Suddenly, Katara was standing beside Aang with a fresh water whip forming in her hand.

"No, stop!" Aang cried. "Can't you see he's hurt?"

But Katara wasn't listening and was already following up with a second attack. There was a thump, another sharp, awful gasp, and then Zuko slumped face-first to the ground where he lay very still. Aang's eyes widened and he started wriggling more frantically, desperate to get free of his bonds. Someone—probably Sokka—knelt beside him and cut his ropes, and Aang immediately rushed over to where Zuko had fallen and rolled the older boy onto his back. He almost recoiled when he saw just how badly bruised and cut Zuko's face was; he hated to think what the rest of the prince looked like.

"Come on, Aang," Sokka called, sheathing his knife and appropriating the discarded rope. "We need to get out of here."

"You're right," Aang agreed, suddenly remembering what Koh had told him. "The spirits are in danger. We need to get to the Spirit Oasis!"

Bending down, he looped Zuko's arms around his neck and then stood to his feet, supporting as much of the prince's weight as he could manage. Sokka's eyes bugged open.

"Uh, Aang, why are you carrying the Angry Jerk on your back?"

"Because he's coming with us," Aang said firmly.

"What?" Katara exclaimed.

"Are you crazy?" Sokka demanded, staring at the younger boy as if he had grown an extra head.

"He's hurt! I'm not just going to leave him here!"

"Right," Sokka said sarcastically, "because it makes so much more sense to bring the guy who's constantly trying to kill us."

Aang ignored this remark and began half-dragging, half-carrying Zuko towards the cave mouth. Katara stepped forward, blocking his path.

"Aang," she tried to reason, "Zuko just captured you and probably would have already handed you over to the Fire Nation by now if it weren't for this blizzard. I don't think—"

"I don't care!" Aang interrupted. "He's hurt and has no one to help him. If we leave him here, he'll die!"

Without waiting for a response, Aang stepped around her and headed over to where Appa was waiting with Princess Yue outside the cave.

"What happened?" Yue gasped. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, he's fine," Sokka responded, coming up behind Aang with his sister in tow. "Unless you count the fact that he's gone completely insane."

When Yue looked confused, Sokka jerked a thumb at the unconscious figure draped over Aang's back.

"He wants to take Prince Jerkbender over there back with us on Appa."

A crease formed on Yue's brow. "Oh."

Aang ignored this exchange and created a small gust of air to raise him, along with Zuko, up into the saddle. Carefully, he tried to ease the older boy off his back, knowing it probably wouldn't be a good idea to just let the prince drop. This was easier said than done, but then another pair of hands reached out to grasp Zuko by the shoulders.

"Here," Katara said, taking on some of Zuko's deadweight. "Let me help you."

Aang smiled gratefully and, together, they lowered the prince onto his back. A rope was suddenly tossed in front of them.

"What's this for?" Katara asked, glancing over to look at her brother, who was now seated at the reins.

"I'd really rather not be toasted to a crisp just because Aang decided to have one of his peace-loving airbender moments," Sokka remarked dryly. "If you all insist on being crazy and bringing Zuko back with us, you can at least tie him up."

"Fine," Aang agreed.

Sokka nodded and then urged Appa to fly with a gritted "yip yip". Aang picked up the rope and started to wrap it around Zuko's chest, pinning the teen's arms close to his side. None of the three sitting in the saddle missed the way Zuko's breathing sharpened from the pressure.

"What's wrong with him?" Yue asked, peering around the two to examine the unconscious boy.

"I'm not sure," Katara admitted. "I know I hit him hard, but I didn't hit him _that_ hard."

Aang's heart clenched as he remembered the awful feelings he had got—the ones Roku had told him meant that Zuko had been in mortal danger.

"I think Zuko was already injured," Aang offered quietly. "Katara probably just made it worse."

Katara folded her arms across her chest. "Hey, don't blame me that he's like this. I never told him to come into the Spirit Oasis and kidnap you. It's his own problem if he's hurt now."

Aang frowned but didn't say anything. That was when the moon turned red.

"Ugh," Yue groaned, clutching her head.

"Are you okay?" Sokka asked, glancing over his shoulder at the white-haired girl.

She squeezed her eyes shut in pain. "I feel faint."

"I feel it too," Aang murmured, touching a hand to his temple with a wince. He looked up at the blood-red moon. "The Moon Spirit is in trouble. We have to hurry!"

"Right!" Sokka gave a flick of the reins. "Yip yip, Appa!"

The bison rumbled and increased his speed. As they flew, Yue told them of how the Moon Spirit had saved her life. She explained that she had been very sick when she was born, so her parents had taken her to the Spirit Oasis and laid her in the water, begging the Moon Spirit to heal her. Then her dark hair had turned white and she had begun to cry; the Moon Spirit had granted her parents' wish.

"That's amazing," Katara said, once Yue was finished.

Yue nodded her head. "I just hope we can get to the oasis in time to save the Moon Spirit."

"We will," Aang said grimly.

It was his duty to maintain balance in the world. He was not about to let the Fire Nation destroy that.

"Hey, I think I see it!" Sokka exclaimed, and then he paled. "Oh, no."

"What?" Katara asked, peering over the edge of the saddle. "What is it?"

Aang followed the direction of Sokka's gaze, only to see a familiar firebender with large side-whiskers standing in front of the sacred pool. His eyes narrowed.

"It's Admiral Zhao."

**oOo**

The moon was red. Zuko blinked and tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but all he could think was that his head was throbbing and that he hurt all over—especially in his chest. Vaguely, he was aware of a group of people talking not far from him. Someone was saying something about destroying the moon. The voice sounded familiar. Too familiar.

_Zhao_, his mind supplied.

Yes, it was Zhao who was talking. Zhao, who was trying to destroy the Moon Spirit. Idiot. And now there was someone else speaking—someone a lot younger and who seemed to be trying to persuade Zhao to do otherwise. That had to be the Avatar; only he would blabber on about balance and chaos.

"He is right, Zhao."

Zuko froze. Now _that_ was a voice he knew, but what was his uncle doing here?

"General Iroh," Zhao greeted in his usual arrogant drawl. "Why am I not surprised to discover your treachery?"

"I'm no traitor, Zhao. The Fire Nation needs the moon, too. We all depend on the balance." There was a pause and Iroh's voice suddenly rose to an angry crescendo. "Whatever you do to that spirit, I will unleash on you tenfold! Let it go now!"

Zuko's heart quickened in his chest. This was not going to end well. Zhao would not back down; he knew that, and he was quite certain that his uncle did as well.

Definitely awake now, Zuko glanced to his left and saw a girl with white hair sitting with her back to him. Good. She was too busy watching the others to pay attention to what he was doing. As silently as possible, Zuko brought himself up into a sitting position and then took in a small breath. There was the usual stab of pain in his chest, but he ignored that and instead focussed on the heat he could feel flickering inside him. Once he was certain that he had the intensity right, he exhaled a small plume of flames and watched as the fire licked through the ropes keeping his arms pinned to his sides. Bit by bit the rope fragmented until it finally unravelled altogether and dropped free. Zuko flexed his arms, getting the blood flowing again.

That was when the moon disappeared.

Iroh didn't hesitate; one moment everyone was staring up at the empty black sky, and then Zuko saw his uncle perform some of the most powerful bending he had seen in a while: a series of quick fire jabs that had all four firebenders knocked out cold in seconds. Then Zuko noticed Zhao trying to flee and his eyes narrowed.

_Oh, no you don't_! Zuko thought, clenching his hands into fists.

He had not been able to capture the Avatar, but he would at least get his revenge on Zhao. That bastard would pay for hiring those pirates to kill him.

Without a second thought, Zuko slipped off the bison and then followed after the admiral into the chief's temple, hugging the shadows so that he would not be seen. He would have been amused at how fast Zhao was running, but in that moment Zuko was too angry to appreciate the overt display of cowardice his rival was showing. He could already taste the scent of smoke on his tongue as his inner fire screamed to be unleashed—to wound this man who had no honour and who had ruined so much. Even the pain that had become a constant companion to Zuko's body seemed to have faded, blocked by the consuming rage of bloodlust.

Zhao suddenly leapt off the edge of the courtyard platform, dropping down to the next level. Zuko's eyes narrowed as he realised Zhao would get away unless he stopped him now. With concentrated precision, he sent a ball of fire rocketing down to hit the wall directly where Zhao had been about to jump. The admiral turned with a growl, only to pale in surprise when he saw Zuko's face.

"You're alive?" Zhao exclaimed.

Zuko met that disbelieving stare and felt a rush of anger merge with the blood in his veins. "You tried to have me killed!" he snarled.

Quick as a flash, he shot a hot burst of flame at the admiral. Zhao dodged the attack, but Zuko was already countering with a stream of fire as he leapt down to the next level, bringing his fists together to double the force, and aiming all of his hate and energy at the other man. Zhao rolled to avoid being burnt, then got back to his feet.

"Yes, I did," Zhao confessed with cold satisfaction. "You're the Blue Spirit: an enemy of the Fire Nation. You freed the Avatar."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "I had no choice!"

Not waiting for a response, he released four fire blasts in quick succession, all of which Zhao deflected. The admiral smiled and then removed his cape before taking up a bending stance.

"You should have chosen to accept your failure—your disgrace," Zhao said, derision dripping from every calculated word. "Then, at least, you could have lived."

Suddenly, Zhao lunged forward and sent an arc of fire Zuko's way. Battle instincts kicked in and Zuko ducked the flames, just feeling the heat caress the back of his neck as he closed the distance between the two of them with a fire-shadowed uppercut to the admiral's face. Zhao brought his forearm up to deflect the hit, using his superior height and strength to shove the prince back. Barely regaining his balance, Zuko gasped as Zhao countered with a sweep kick that morphed into a crescent of flames. Zuko jumped the fire, then darted forward to come at the admiral from the rear, retaliating with a series of quick jabs and kicks that had Zhao growling in frustration and lashing out in wild, heavy blows.

Zuko smiled grimly to himself as he somersaulted through the air to avoid being smothered in a wall of flames. Zhao might be stronger and bigger, but Zuko was _fast_. He'd break through the older man's defences yet.

Touching to the ground with the toe of his boot, Zuko swung around and used the momentum of his landing to launch himself back at Zhao. They clashed together in a raw collision of fire and sparks: one man moving with the dangerous power of a battle axe, while the other twisted and thrust with all the subtle swiftness of the dual dao blades he had once wielded. Then Zuko saw his opening and he struck hard in a fist of flames, sending Zhao flying off the rampart to the level below. A split-second later the prince was jumping down to follow, fire streaming from his palms as he brought his hands down to attack from above. Eyes widening in alarm, Zhao just managed to dodge the attack and then he leapt back to his feet and resumed a bending stance. Zuko straightened to his full height, and for a moment they just glared at each other, hate radiating off their bodies in thick waves of heat.

"I see you have mastered a few more firebending techniques," Zhao observed. "Not that it matters. You still won't beat me."

Zuko clenched his jaw. "We'll see."

In an unspoken agreement they lunged for each other once more, illuminating the night with flashes of orange as they exchanged blow for blow and fireball for fireball. It was not long, however, before Zuko once again got the upper-hand. Mouth twisting into a smirk, he drove Zhao back towards the icy bridge with a flow of ruthless kicks and punches, pushing and pushing to make a crack in the older man's defence. A swift backfist punch had Zhao flailing, and Zuko immediately seized his chance and brought his hands together, shoving forward into Zhao's chest in a mixture of fire and pure physical force. The admiral stumbled and, before he could regain his balance, Zuko followed up with a slew of fireballs that slammed Zhao hard to the ground. Zuko didn't bother to attack after that. He knew Zhao had lost.

Groaning in pain, Zhao began to sit up when he suddenly saw the silver disc shining in the sky. "It can't be!" he exclaimed.

Zuko turned to look, but then something burst up from the ocean under the bridge, shimmering in a ghostly shade of blue as it swelled to a gargantuan size. Zuko stepped back in alarm, fear piercing through the angry adrenaline in his veins as he realised the thing—whatever it was—seemed to be creating hands, and those hands were now closing down on his position.

_Get out of the way!_ his mind screamed.

It was enough to snap him out of his panic, and Zuko wasted no time in rolling to the side just as the creature made a sweep of the bridge. Zhao had not been so lucky. As the prince turned to glance back at the creature, he was horrified to see Zhao trapped in a giant blue fist, snarling and tugging at vice-like fingers as he desperately tried to break free. It only took a second for Zuko to make his decision, and he leapt up onto the parapet, stretching out his arm to reach for the admiral.

"Take my hand!" Zuko yelled.

Zhao extended his hand, fingertips almost touching, but then his gaze locked with Zuko's and he paused, pulling back slightly. Gold eyes widened as understanding filtered through. In a deliberate motion, the admiral raised his hand back to his chest, spurning Zuko's help. There was nothing the prince could do, and for a moment they simply stared at each other—Zhao arrogant and proud, while Zuko just looked appalled. Then the creature squeezed its fist and Zhao was swallowed up in a wave of shimmering blue, gurgling and choking as he was dragged down to the ocean.

Zuko stared at the black surface of the water, searching for any hint of life, but there was no sign of the admiral or the creature.

"No," Zuko murmured, dropping his hand back to his side.

He had never liked Zhao, but no one should have to die like that. Not by some—some _thing_. As Zuko gazed out into the distance, however, he realised it wasn't just Zhao who had fallen victim to the monstrous spirit. The ocean had become a graveyard of sinking ships and bodies, and every single one was Fire Nation. The entire navy had been wiped out in a single blow.

Feeling suddenly sick, Zuko collapsed to his knees and tried to resist the urge to vomit. All of those men and women. All of his old crew. Lieutenant Jee, Nozomi, Kan—damn it, even the cook—they were all dead. All of them. Gone, just like that. Some of them had been with him from the beginning of his banishment, and he'd never even said goodbye to them when they'd left. He'd just got angry and sulked in his room.

Something hot rolled down Zuko's cheek. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and buried his face in his knees, hiding his tears even from himself. In that moment he was just so bitter and angry—so furious with himself and with the Avatar, whom he knew had somehow played a part in bringing about this destruction. Right then, Zuko wanted nothing more than to go back to the Spirit Oasis and hit the stupid kid over and over again, if only to make Aang see just how utterly _wrong_ this whole situation was.

But Zuko was also exhausted. The adrenaline had worn off and now there was nothing to disguise the pain he could feel pressing down on every inch of his body. He had pushed himself too hard, ignored his injuries for too long, and now it was all accumulating in one overwhelming onslaught of weariness and agony. That was why Zuko did not notice when the two Water Tribe warriors crept up from behind him. Unfortunately, he did notice when he got struck on the head with the hilt of a knife, but by then it was too late. He had already passed out cold.

* * *

Certain sections from this chapter have been based on scenes from the episode 'The Siege of the North: Part II'. Some of the dialogue has also been paraphrased and directly quoted from this episode.

I really did think I would manage to get away from canon stuff in this chapter, but once again I got past 4000 words and realised I would have to split it into two parts. In other words, next chapter will see some changes!


	8. Behind Enemy Lines

**Behind Enemy Lines**

The aftermath of battle is never pleasant, even when victory has been won, so it was a sombre group who made their way to the meeting hall. Aang tried not to look at the ocean where he knew twisted bits of metal and—he swallowed—_other_ _things_ still floated amongst the black waters. He tried not to look at the moon, which he had learnt had only been restored because Princess Yue had sacrificed her life. He tried not to look at Sokka, who was silent and grim-faced and still had faint traces of tears streaking his cheeks. Aang tried not to look at any of it, focussing only on moving his feet one step at a time. Trying not to remember.

Katara gripped his shoulder to pull him to a halt. Aang looked up in a daze and realised that they were already outside the meeting hall. The guard standing on watch lowered his spear, gesturing for them to enter through the doors.

"Chief Arnook has been waiting for you," the guard said, and then he cast a wary look at Aang before quickly averting his gaze.

Something clenched in Aang's gut, twisting his stomach into knots. Many of the Water Tribe warriors had been looking at him in that way since the ceasefire: a strange mixture of awe and fear. Aang thought he could guess why. They'd all seen how he had merged with the Ocean Spirit and taken down the Fire Nation navy. It would have been a frightening sight to behold, though at the time Aang hadn't really been conscious of what he was doing. All he had known was a blinding white rage—the same that always dulled his awareness when he entered the Avatar State. This time it had been worse, though, because he'd been fused with the spirit of the ocean as well. Emotions that should have been his alone had been intermingled with a water-tinted hate; limbs that should have answered only to him had been guided by another's hand. When the moon had finally gleamed up in the sky again and the white light had died in his eyes, Aang had found himself surrounded by a ring of destruction.

_It wasn't me_, he told himself for what seemed like the hundredth time. _It was the Ocean Spirit._

Except he still felt guilty. Airbenders were supposed to be peaceful; they were supposed to live in harmony with the world and with the people around them. Even if he was the Avatar, he did not want to have to resort to violence.

Momo swooped down from the sky and landed on his head, chittering something that might have been words of comfort—though, in reality, was probably just a request for moon peaches. Aang absently reached up to scratch the lemur behind the ears, but his heart still felt terribly heavy. This was not the victory he had been hoping for. Everything had just gone so wrong. He didn't even know what had happened to Zuko, though the old man—Zuko's uncle, Aang reminded himself—had left the oasis to look for the prince. Maybe they had both got away.

Katara tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Aang."

Shaken from his thoughts, he glanced up to meet her concerned blue eyes.

"Come on," she said softly. "We should go inside."

"Right."

Letting out a deep breath, he walked through the doors and entered the hall where the leaders of the Northern Water Tribe had gathered. Chief Arnook sat at the front on a frozen dais. Beside him sat the warrior leader, Iluq: a broad-shouldered man with black hair and icy blue eyes. Master Pakku should have flanked the chief on the right, but the old waterbender was nowhere to be seen. The rest of the men were seated facing the platform in a half circle in two groups, allowing a space in the middle for people to take the floor and speak if they should so wish. Judging by the way the group were bickering amongst each other, the meeting had already started and it was not going well.

Chief Arnook spotted the latecomers and a strained smile touched his lips. "Ah, good. You're here."

The conversation immediately stopped as the Water Tribe council turned as one to look at the quartet. Momo huddled closer to Aang's neck, wrapping around him like a scarf. It seemed the lemur did not like being under such scrutiny. Aang had to admit that he didn't either, though he had come to accept it as a matter of course during his travels.

"Sorry we're late," Aang apologised, crossing over to join the group on the left.

"It is fine, Avatar," Chief Arnook responded. "I understand that you and your friends must be tired."

The unspoken words lingered between them. Because Aang had summoned an Ocean Spirit and defeated the Fire Nation navy. Because Yue was gone, and everyone knew that it was their failure to protect the Moon Spirit which had caused that. Aang thought it was a wonder that Chief Arnook hadn't sent them packing for allowing the princess to die, but the older man had understood. Aang had tried his best, just like Sokka and Katara had tried their best. Sometimes, though, things just didn't work out the way you wanted. It was a lesson of which Aang was still trying to come to terms.

"Chief Arnook," Iluq said, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand, "we still need to decide what we are going to do with the war prisoners."

The chief sighed. "We will just have to—"

Suddenly, the doors to the meeting hall were thrust open and two Water Tribe warriors entered, one dragging an unconscious figure behind him. Arnook broke off and frowned at this unlooked-for interruption, while Aang tried to peer around a bulky man—clearly, someone had been eating too many stewed sea prunes—to get a better look at the person being dragged. Those white clothes looked familiar.

"What is the meaning of this?" Chief Arnook demanded.

The warrior on the right stepped forward, then dumped his inert burden in front of the chief. "We found this boy near the temple. He's definitely Fire Nation, though he's not wearing the right armour, so—"

Aang gasped. He had finally managed to get a clear view of the unconscious boy, and what he saw made his heart quicken in both fear and relief. Because there was no mistaking that angry red scar, and even under all the bruises and cuts that mottled the boy's face, Aang would never forget those angular features.

"Zuko!" he exclaimed.

He would have rushed forward, but the chief held up a warning hand. Chastised, Aang swallowed and watched the small group in front of the dais, his heart thumping with anxiety. Zuko was here. Zuko was _here_, but the prince didn't look well at all, and—and why was everyone staring at him like that?

Chief Arnook took a few steps forward, bending down to examine the unconscious teen's face. "So this must be Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord's son and heir."

There was a chorus of cries from the other men in the room—some surprised, while others just sounded angry. Aang felt Sokka tense beside him.

"This isn't going to be good," Sokka murmured.

Aang glanced up at his friend in confusion. He was about to ask what the older boy had meant, but just then the warrior leader, Iluq, stepped down from the dais and grabbed Zuko by the hair, raising the prince's head so that he could get a better look at the scarred visage. Aang didn't know why, but the expression on Iluq's face made him go cold. It was the look of someone who had just found a great treasure.

"Well," Iluq said, releasing his grip on Zuko's hair and letting the boy drop back to the ground with a thud, "if this is the prince of the Fire Nation then we ought to hear what he has to say." He turned to the chief. "Chief Arnook, if I may?"

Arnook nodded wearily, then sat back down on the dais. Iluq glanced at the first warrior who had spoken.

"Wake him up!" he ordered sharply.

The warrior smiled. "With pleasure."

Aang flinched at the sound of a boot making contact with bone, almost feeling the sickening thwack reverberate through his own body. Zuko lurched up on reflex, groaning as he clutched a hand to his side where he had just been kicked. Suddenly, the prince seemed to realise where he was and who was surrounding him. His gold eyes narrowed and, in a flash, he lashed out in a low, spinning sweep kick that encircled his body with flames and sent the three warriors standing near him sprawling. Just as he came full circle, Zuko pushed himself back to his feet and made a run for the door.

"Stop him!" Iluq cried from where he had fallen on the floor.

Zuko ducked under the arms of the man who reached out to grab him and continued to run, increasing his speed with every step. He might have managed to escape, too, but then two water whips latched around his ankles, halting him in his momentum and bringing him face-first to the ground. Immediately, the warriors were upon the prince, pinning him to the floor by his arms and legs while he growled and thrashed against their hold in an attempt to break free. Aang watched in frozen horror, not really sure what he should do. Zuko was the Fire Nation prince and an enemy of the Northern Water Tribe; Aang knew he shouldn't—_couldn't_—interfere. But Zuko was also the Blue Spirit and the boy who had saved Aang's life. It was too confusing.

Iluq stopped in front of the subdued prince and a nasty smile curved his mouth. "Well, well," he observed, "it seems we've caught ourselves quite the wild one."

Zuko responded by breathing out an inferno of flames, which Iluq barely managed to avoid. Feeling his singed beard, Iluq's eyes narrowed and he struck out with a back-handed blow to Zuko's face, making the prince's head snap back from the impact. Aang's hand twitched on his staff.

"You want to try that trick again, little prince?" Iluq hissed, bringing out his whale's tooth scimitar and holding it to Zuko's throat.

Zuko spat out a glob of blood and glared at the warrior in front of him through burning gold eyes. It was obvious that he was not intimidated.

Iluq's mouth twisted and he grasped Zuko by the jaw, forcing the boy's head up to expose the vulnerable curve of his throat. Sharpened ivory pressed against pale skin, just drawing a line of crimson. Aang's breath hitched at the sight and he took an involuntary step forward, fingers tightening around his staff.

"That's enough, Iluq!"

Aang paused and turned to see Chief Arnook frowning at the warrior leader. The change in that careworn face was startling. Before, the chief had just looked weary and resigned, lost in his own grief; now those light-blue eyes were as hard as steel, and his expression was just as unforgiving. This was the face of a man who commanded respect, and it had the desired effect on Iluq.

Removing the scimitar from Zuko's throat, Iluq took a step back and turned to face the chief. "Forgive me, Chief Arnook. I was merely—"

"You were merely letting your temper get the better of you," Chief Arnook interrupted coldly, and then he shifted his gaze to Zuko. "As for you, Prince Zuko, I would ask that you refrain from trying to burn my warriors. I do not condone the maiming of children, but I will also not allow the people of my tribe to be hurt. For your own safety, it will be better if you cooperate with us."

Zuko simply glared, his breathing heavy as the blood continued to trickle down his neck.

"Now then," Chief Arnook continued, "why don't you start by telling us why you are here? It's clear from your clothes that you were not part of the main invasion force, and we already know who was to blame for the death of the Moon Spirit." His eyes hardened. "So, then, what were _you_ doing near the temple?"

Zuko dropped his gaze to the ground and said nothing.

"You will answer the chief!" the warrior clutching Zuko's left arm said, giving the teen a rough shake.

Zuko still said nothing. It seemed that he had decided to find his new method of resistance in silence. Aang shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should say anything. Then the matter was taken out of his hands as Sokka stepped forward.

"Uh, we can probably answer that question," Sokka said, shooting a glance at the prince, who just glowered back at him. "You see, Zuko has been trying to capture Aang since we first came across him at the South Pole, and he's been chasing us everywhere—and I mean _everywhere_." A shrug. "It was kind of inevitable that he would follow us here."

"Is this true, Avatar?" Chief Arnook asked.

Aang nodded his head. "But Zuko was only ever going after me," he added in a rush. "I don't think he was trying to, you know, attack the Water Tribe or the Moon Spirit like the others. And he didn't even hurt me, so maybe we should just—"

Sokka jabbed him in the ribs. Aang broke off abruptly, but only to stare at his friend in confusion.

"What?" he demanded.

"Now is not the time to play peaceful airbender, Aang," Sokka whispered from out of the corner of his mouth. "Best just to keep your mouth shut."

"But—"

Sokka shook his head and gestured to Chief Arnook, who was now staring back at Zuko with an unreadable expression on his face.

"So you have been trying to capture the Avatar, have you?" the chief asked, rubbing a hand against his beard. "And what about the rest of your country? Thanks to the Avatar, the Fire Nation navy was completely obliterated. So, tell me, can we expect any more attacks like this?"

Zuko's jaw tightened, but he still remained silent.

Iluq let out a frustrated growl. "We're wasting our time trying to get answers out of this brat! He's never going to talk!"

"I say we kill him and be done with it," another warrior muttered. "One less Fire Nation scum to worry about."

"We are not going to kill him, Qaniit," Chief Arnook said tiredly. "He is not just some 'Fire Nation scum', as you put it. He is the Crown Prince."

Iluq stepped forward, placing himself in front of the warriors who were still struggling to keep Zuko in place. "If I may, Chief Arnook, I suggest that we keep the boy and use him as a bargaining tool. However useless he might be as a source of information, the Fire Lord will have no choice but to listen to our demands once he hears that we have his son as our prisoner."

That did get a sound out of Zuko, though it was only a humourless laugh.

"Something amusing, little prince?" Iluq growled.

Zuko met his gaze steadily. "Just that you're an idiot."

"Why you little—"

"Iluq!"

The warrior leader froze. Chief Arnook frowned at the prince.

"You seem to believe this plan will not work, Prince Zuko," the chief observed. "You think the Fire Lord would not be willing to negotiate peace terms for the safety of his son?"

Zuko averted his face and said nothing.

"Answer the question, brat!" Iluq snarled.

Before anyone could stop him, Iluq lashed out and kicked the prince hard in the ribs. No one had been prepared for the almost inhuman cry of pain that escaped Zuko's throat. Nor did they expect the teen to start coughing and gasping for air like a drowning man, his body convulsing as he instinctively tried to curl up on himself. The warriors restraining Zuko dropped him in their surprise, but the prince, for once, made no attempt to run. Instead, he just collapsed onto his hands and knees, still making that horrible, hacking cough as he struggled for air, and then he simply slumped forward and lay very still.

Aang's eyes widened and he turned on the warrior leader, hot rage bubbling under his skin. "What did you do to him?" he screamed, making Momo take off into the air with an indignant screech.

Iluq looked confused. "I—"

Aang brought up his staff and took a threatening step forward. Katara was suddenly gripping him by the shoulders, holding him back.

"Don't, Aang," she said in a low voice. "This isn't the way."

Letting out a growl of frustration, Aang wrenched himself free and ran—not towards Iluq, but towards the limp figure of the prince. He dropped down to his knees and rolled Zuko over onto his back, staring anxiously down at the scarred face. Zuko was still conscious, but there was a glazed look in his golden eyes, as if he was barely aware of the world around him. His skin had also developed a nasty greyish quality, and when Aang pressed his hand against the prince's cheek, trying to get him to focus, the younger boy was surprised at how cold and clammy it felt.

"Zuko," Aang murmured, lightly tapping the boy's face. "Zuko, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Tell me!"

The prince just closed his eyes, breathing in and out in weak, rattling breaths that just sounded so painful and _wrong_. Aang's bottom lip trembled, and he curled his fingers into Zuko's tunic, feeling the far too rapid beat of the prince's heart pulse against his palm. No. No, no, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Zuko hadn't even done anything to the Northern Water Tribe. He didn't deserve this. He didn't—

Aang froze as a familiar cold feeling encircled his heart, squeezing unpleasantly. He trembled as he stared down into that scarred, battered face, even as the nausea swept through his body, twisting his stomach into knots and making him want to retch. There was something reaching inside of him; something reaching too deep, too close, trying to snatch away those threads of precious warmth he could feel embracing his soul.

"No!" Aang choked out, knowing what that awful feeling meant.

His spirit had sensed that his bond with Zuko was about to be cut, which could only mean one thing. Zuko was dying; he was _dying_, and there was nothing Aang could do about it.

Aang swung around to face the group of stunned councilmen and warriors. "Why are you all just standing there?" he shouted, his vision blurring as something hot prickled at the corner of his eyes. "We have to do something! We have to heal him!"

"_Heal_ him?" Qaniit exclaimed, looking outraged. "Why should we heal him?"

Aang ignored this outburst and focussed on the only female in the room—the only person who might be able to help. "Katara, please," he begged. "Please, help him. He's dying!"

Grey collided with blue, and for a moment the two just stared at each other: Aang pleading, while Katara just looked torn. Finally, she nodded and rushed over to join him on the floor, already summoning the liquid from her water skin. Aang watched as she ran glowing palms over Zuko's face, feeling down the prince's chi meridians to his chest. She paused.

"Sokka, I need your dagger," Katara said in a voice of forced calm.

Her brother was immediately beside her with the jawbone knife, for once not choosing to argue.

"What do you need me to do?" Sokka asked.

"Cut his tunic open," Katara answered, lifting her water-encased hands away from the prince. "I think there might be something wrong with his ribs, but I can't manipulate his chi properly to heal him unless I have direct contact with his skin."

"Right!"

Sokka set about slicing through the thick layers of fabric covering the prince's chest while Aang watched on anxiously. Qaniit let out a disgusted snarl and stalked over to the chief.

"Chief Arnook, are you really going to stand for this?" he demanded. "This boy is our enemy! His people are the reason your daughter is dead! The reason our brothers and sons are dead!"

There were some murmurs of agreement from the other men, but Chief Arnook merely held up his hand for silence. He then looked down at the group gathered around the prince, his expression unreadable. Aang tightened his fingers around his staff, getting ready to defend in case the chief tried to stop the healing. He didn't care if it wasn't his place to interfere; he was _not_ about to let Zuko die.

"Do what you must, Katara," Chief Arnook said in a weary voice. "Enemy or not, I believe enough children have died today."

Aang let out a sigh of relief; Katara simply nodded and got her hands ready to heal as Sokka peeled away the shredded layers of white. All three gasped at the sight that met their eyes. Instead of smooth, pale skin, the prince's chest was a canvas of swollen purples and blacks. Squares of cloth had been taped onto his stomach and upper torso, creating make-shift bandages—some of which were still stained a deep red. Then there were the gashes and cuts that had not been covered, forming jagged lines of barely healed flesh. It was his ribs that truly repulsed, though. Some of the bone was sticking out at an odd angle from under the layer of his flesh, while a part of the left side of his ribcage almost seemed to have sunk inward. All of the skin around his ribs was bruised an ugly purplish-black.

"That's sick," Sokka said in a shaky voice.

Aang turned to the girl beside him. "Can you heal him, Katara?"

"I—I'll try."

Taking in a deep breath, Katara placed her palms against Zuko's chest and called upon the healing energy inside of her. Once again, her hands began to glow, and they could see some of the bruising fading under her touch, but then she suddenly pulled back as if burned.

"What is it?" Aang exclaimed. "Is something wrong?"

A crease formed on her brow. "N-no, it's nothing. I just wasn't expecting his chi to feel so ... alive. It's like he's on fire, but it's more than that as well." She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. "Hang on, let me try again."

Still frowning, she placed her glowing hands back on his chest and slowly began to trace a circular path along his ribs. More of the bruises and cuts began to fade, but Aang couldn't help but notice the way her jaw clenched. Something was wrong, and he soon realised that the more Katara tried to heal the prince the less certain she appeared in her movements. Her hands started to tremble and an odd sparkle gleamed in her eyes, as if she were close to tears. Finally, she dropped her hands back to her sides and bowed her head in defeat, letting the water that had encased her palms splash harmlessly to the ground.

"I can't do it," she whispered. "I can't heal him."

Aang's heart clenched. "What do you mean you can't heal him? Katara, you have to!"

"I can't!"

The words were ripped out from her, and she looked at him now with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"It's too much, Aang," she said in a voice quavering with emotion. "I thought I could heal him, but I'm just—I'm just not good enough." Her hands curled into fists. "I don't know _how_."

Aang felt like the world was crumbling out from under his feet. This could not be happening.

Chief Arnook glanced towards the warrior closest to the door. "Pukiq, get Yagoda. And hurry!"

Pukiq nodded once in acknowledgement and then dashed out of the meeting hall. The next few minutes were of pure agony for Aang, but then Pukiq was bursting back through the doors and with him came the elderly woman whom Aang recognised as the Master Healer of the tribe. Yagoda took one look at the prince and then was at his side in an instant, placing glowing palms against his chest just as Katara had done only moments before. Oddly, Yagoda also hesitated at the initial contact with Zuko's chi, but then she let the water flow out from her hands, sinking into bruised flesh and feeling out the twisted knots of energy that surrounded his injuries. With a sigh, she gathered the liquid back up into her water skin.

"This is going to take a while," Yagoda said grimly. "You were right to call me."

"What's wrong with him?" Aang asked in a small voice.

"He's badly broken three of his ribs and his left lung has been punctured. I've managed to get the air out of the pleural space for now, but sealing everything up properly and getting his ribs back into place will take a long time." She shook her head. "This boy is very lucky to be alive. He's still showing signs of having gone into circulatory shock, but Katara's healing session must have stopped the organs from failing completely." Yagoda smiled at the waterbender. "You did well, child."

Katara just shook her head. "I couldn't do anything. I couldn't heal him at all."

"You did enough," Yagoda responded. "That is what matters."

Aang looked at the older woman hopefully. "So he'll live?"

"He will live," Yagoda confirmed, and then glanced towards the chief. "Of course, it would help if I could get a little privacy. I can't move him to the healing huts right now—not like this. I'm going to need to heal him here, and I can't do that with all of you grumbling men hovering around."

Said grumbling men stopped their muttering and stared at the chief with indignant expressions, as if asking how Arnook could let a woman boss them around and disrespect them like that. The chief just sighed.

"You heard Yagoda. Everybody out."

Qaniit's eyes narrowed. "But—"

"Enough, Qaniit," Chief Arnook said sharply. "The boy is still a prince, and so he shall be treated accordingly. He is of no use to us dead." Arnook waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "This meeting is over. Please, return to your homes."

Iluq, who had been very still and silent from the moment the prince had collapsed, now stepped forward. "Chief Arnook, if it pleases you, I will have Pikuq and Arrluk stand guard, just in case Prince Zuko should wake again and try to attack."

"Very well," Chief Arnook said. "The rest of you, leave."

"I'm staying," Aang said firmly.

"Me too," Katara said, and then cast an anxious glance at Yagoda. "If that's okay with you, of course."

Yagoda smiled. "Of course, Katara. In fact, I was hoping you would be able to assist me. This is a delicate process and two pairs of hands will be better than one."

Katara swallowed. "I'll try."

"You'll be fine," Yagoda said reassuringly.

That seemed to decide the matter. In the end, it was just the three of them, plus Momo, left in the meeting hall, along with the two warriors who had been assigned to keep watch. Sokka could have stayed, but said he would check on Appa; the big guy was bound to be feeling lonely, after all. Even Chief Arnook had left, muttering something about finding Master Pakku and unexpected complications. Aang had to admit that it was a relief to see the Northern Water Tribe warriors go. He had not liked the way they had looked at Zuko. None of them seemed to recognise the prince as a human being—except maybe Chief Arnook. Everyone else had just seen an enemy or a tool to be used against the Fire Nation. It was ... unsettling.

Pushing aside such thoughts, Aang focussed his attention back on the two waterbenders, who were now carefully feeling around Zuko's upper body with glowing palms. Momo clambered onto Aang's lap and curled up into a furry ball, watching this process through round green eyes. Grateful for the company, Aang stroked his fingers down the lemur's back and settled in for a long night of anxious waiting. The initial awful feeling that had alerted him to Zuko's condition had mostly faded, but the faint throbbing in his shoulder where the arrow had pierced told him that there was still some danger.

_Come on, Zuko,_ Aang thought, staring intently at the other boy's scarred face. _You've never given up before. You can't give up now._

**oOo**

There were two men standing by the raft. Both had their cloaks pulled up over the faces, but as the moon touched down on the ice, illuminating the scene, it was revealed that one man was wearing a red robe while the other had shrouded himself in blue.

"Iroh, you have to leave," the man in the blue cloak urged in a low voice. "I will not be able to protect you if you are caught. You know this."

The old general shook his head. "I will not leave without my nephew."

"I'm sorry, Iroh, but you and I both know that if your nephew has not returned he has either been captured or killed."

Iroh closed his eyes in pain. "That is why I cannot leave. I have already lost one son. I do not wish to lose another."

"And what if you are found and imprisoned? How will you help your nephew then? How will you help anyone?"

"A river continues to flow even if the fish that swims in its waters seeks a home elsewhere. There are others to take my place."

"You're wrong, Iroh. Piandao and Jeong Jeong might be from the Fire Nation, but neither of them have your unique status as a member of the royal family, nor do they have your ability to gather men from all sectors of life to follow you." The man in the blue cloak paused, as if what he was about to say next was especially difficult for him to speak. "We need you, Iroh. The Order of the White Lotus needs you."

Iroh sighed heavily. "You do realise what you are asking of me?"

"Yes. Will you do it?"

Iroh turned to face the raft. "I have watched over my nephew for almost three years. It is ... painful to think of abandoning him now. Too painful."

The man in the blue cloak was silent for a moment, clearly thinking. "If Prince Zuko is dead then staying here would be an unnecessary risk on your part." Another pause. "If he is alive, however, I will personally see to it that he gets out of the city safely, even if he has been captured." The man's voice suddenly became very dry. "Is that enough for you, Iroh?"

Iroh couldn't repress his chuckle. "You always did drive a hard bargain, Pakku."

Master Pakku pulled back his hood, smiling wryly. "Perhaps you are just not as wise as you like to think yourself, Grand Lotus."

This got a much louder laugh out of the general. "Possibly, my friend. Possibly."

"Ah, before I forget." Pakku reached into his robes and held out a small counter.

"The white lotus tile," Iroh observed, accepting the offering.

"I hear you lost yours," Pakku said with a hint of a smile. "I figured you might need one."

"You're right," Iroh agreed solemnly.

It was time to begin the call, even if every feeling in his heart did resist the idea of leaving without Zuko.

_I am sorry, Nephew. I pray that you are alive. I pray that we will meet again._

Until then, they would have to go their separate paths.

* * *

*ducks rotten tomatoes* Don't kill me! I swear I do have my reasons for separating Iroh and Zuko.

Also, I really do think I will not be able to update so quickly next time. I have a major deadline coming up and, well, let's just say that right now I'm not going to meet it unless I get my arse into gear. Ah, the woes of being an adult. People should just understand my need to write AtLA fanfiction all day ...

In any case, please do let me know what you think of this chapter. I always love reading your comments and thoughts. ^_^


	9. A Different Kind of Battle

**A Different Kind of Battle**

He was surrounded by flames. The heat cradled him, sheltered him; it soothed his pain and eased the suffocating darkness that threatened to plunge him into oblivion, but even then his body still made its agony known. A sharp stab to his chest. Not enough air, then too much air. Unable to breathe. Black dizziness sucking him further into the abyss. Heartbeat slowing. Then cold. So cold.

_No!_

He plunged himself deeper into the flames, wrapping himself up in a blazing cocoon so that the icy fingers stealing around his heart would not be able to survive. It still wasn't enough. The cold was closing in on him, fusing with the darkness so that he was sure he would be swallowed up in it completely. Desperate now, he saw a spark of pale gold burning at the centre of the inferno and he reached out for it on instinct, hugging the light to his chest so that he could feel the gentle flutters of its energy beating against him like a tiny heartbeat. He clung to it so tightly that he lived and breathed the golden fire, letting it merge with his body, his chi, until there was no separating the boy from the flames. He was warmth and light. He was alive. Nothing could hurt him here.

Dimly, he became aware of something entering the threads of energy keeping his cocoon locked in place. A whisper of water, of the ocean. He resisted its touch at first, panicking at the thought of fire-quenching droplets and dying embers, but the watery presence simply shaped itself to his flames, embracing rather than extinguishing. He realised then that the water was not cold; it was warm, and it was trying to help him escape from the abyss as well. Cautiously, he reached out to the ocean-tinted caress, letting it entwine more fully with his fire—with him. He felt the moment when they fused: a union of heat and liquid, working together like the sun and rain to nourish his withering roots and restore balance.

"That's it," a voice murmured from somewhere above him. "Don't fight it."

The words barely penetrated his shell of flames. He was still clinging to the golden spark, buried deep within his cocoon; however, there was another part of him rushing in a fusion of elements through winding paths, unravelling twisted knots of energy and sealing up the gaping wounds that had sought to drag him into the abyss. Somewhere, far outside of his shell, a boy's chest rose and fell.

"Yes," the voice encouraged. "That's it. Breathe. Let the oxygen flow through you."

"Come on, Zuko!"

_Zuko._

The name teased at his consciousness, whispering of a blue mask and a boy with a scar. Without even realising it, he found himself letting go of the golden spark. The name was calling him. Calling him upwards, back through the shell of flames. He had to follow—had to seize hold of that name. Fire slipped from his grasp, letting him break free of his cocoon and separating him from the watery presence he could still feel swirling around those winding paths. He was so close now; he could almost see the truth taking shape in his mind, and then—

_There._

Suddenly, he was aware of unmoving limbs and a dull stabbing in his chest; he felt fingers of darkness holding his eyelids shut, and the invasive touch of hands moving along his bare skin. Hands he could not see. Hands he could not stop. A scream of panic tore through him, but even that was silenced by the invisible palm keeping his mouth clamped shut. He was blind. Helpless.

_No!_

He couldn't bear it. Not again. Not like this.

Like a frightened child he lashed out at the hands—at anything—but his limbs wouldn't obey him. His chest rose and fell—too quickly this time. He was lost with the flames and the darkness, but the fire wasn't comforting anymore. It was too close, too hot. It was _burning_; he could feel it turning his face bloody and raw, feel the vulnerable flesh melting, feel the darkness closing in as his vision was obscured by a wave of orange. And then hands. Hands touching. Hands hurting.

"_Don't worry, Zuzu. I just want to see how your fire works."_

Zuko gasped and sat up with a rush, his eyes wild as heat exploded from him in a shield of flames, trying to push back every invasive hand—every unwelcome touch. Alarmed cries echoed in his ears, but he was already scrambling to his knees, already trying to run.

"Stop him!"

More hands grabbing him by the shoulders. More hands pulling him back towards the bed.

"No!" he screamed, desperately trying to break free. "I won't let you touch me! I won't!"

"Zuko, please! We're just trying to help!"

That voice. That was the Avatar's voice, but the sound of it just enraged Zuko even further, and he struggled more fiercely, determined to escape. Determined to attack.

"Damn, this kid's strong," one of the men grunted, just narrowly avoiding being elbowed in the stomach.

Zuko growled in frustration and tried to force the man to release his grip with another elbow to the gut; however, the burst of energy the prince had felt upon waking was quickly fading. His body was remembering that it was in pain and that he had barely rested for several days now. Legs that had hummed with strength began to wobble; arms that had punched and thrashed with frantic speed grew sluggish. Suddenly, he was finding it very difficult to stay upright, let alone fight.

An elderly woman appeared before his star-blurred gaze. "Enough of this!" she said sharply. "Young man, you are hurt and you need to rest. Now stop trying to undo all of our hard work and _lie down_!"

"No!" Zuko snarled, and then he let out another roar as he tried and failed to twist free of the warriors' hold. "Let me go!"

"And where do you plan to go if they did?" the woman responded tartly. "You wouldn't exactly make it very far dressed like that."

Distracted, Zuko glanced down at his body and immediately felt a wave of heat rise to his cheeks, staining the unscarred part of his face a bright crimson. He had thought it had felt a little breezy.

"Where are my clothes?" he demanded in a hoarse voice.

"You were wounded. Katara and I had to get to your injuries somehow. Besides, stripping a warrior of his clothes is the best way to ensure that he will stay in bed, and I had a feeling you would be a stubborn one." The healer smiled in understanding as his blush deepened. "Don't worry, Katara chose to leave while I removed your undergarments, though you really have no reason to feel ashamed. Compared to some of the other men I've seen, you're doing quite well for yourself."

Zuko closed his eyes in pained mortification. It was just his luck to run into the female version of his uncle. All she needed to do now was wink and his humiliation would be complete.

"Now then," the woman continued, pointing a threatening finger at his face, "are you going to stop trying to run so I can finish healing you? Or am I going to have to get Pukiq and Arrluk to drag you back to that bed and tie you down?"

The two warriors chuckled; Zuko just leaned his head away from the tip of that gnarled finger, looking a bit startled. No one had ever dared to speak to him in that way. Not even his mother or uncle. It was disconcerting, but it was also incredibly frustrating. Who did this woman think she was? He was a prince, not some grubby urchin she could boss around.

"Come on, Zuko," Aang said, when the teen continued to remain silent. "Yagoda really is only trying to help, and you'll feel much better once you're healed."

Zuko whipped his head around at the sound of that voice and his gold eyes narrowed as he spotted the airbender. "You!" he growled.

Aang's smile faltered. "Uh, yes?" he said uncertainly. "I have been here the whole time, you know."

A strangled noise of rage escaped Zuko's throat. How dare that little brat just stand there looking all innocent and confused, as if he didn't know what he had done! As if he hadn't summoned the Ocean Spirit and snatched away the lives of hundreds of good men and women!

Suddenly, Zuko was renewing his struggles to break free of the warriors' hold, not even caring that he was cold, naked and exhausted. He was going to kill that arrow-headed idiot! He was going to—

A glowing palm touched Zuko on the forehead and he flinched at the feeling that emanated from the contact. It was almost as if a blanket was pressing down on his mind, making his thoughts sluggish and his limbs weak. Before he could think to react, his vision started to blur and he slumped back against the two warriors, hanging limply between them as his eyes slid shut. Yagoda calmly removed her hand.

"What did you do?" Aang asked, peering up at the unconscious teen's face.

"I put him in a healing sleep," Yagoda explained, gesturing for Pukiq and Arrluk to place the prince back on the bed. "He was getting too worked up."

Aang chewed on his bottom lip. "He seemed really upset."

"His navy has been defeated and he's suddenly found himself a captive of his enemies." Yagoda raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you be upset?"

"But we're not even trying to hurt him!"

"Do you think he understands that?"

Aang sighed. "I guess not."

Yagoda picked up the furs that Zuko had knocked aside in his haste to escape and draped them back over the prince's body, making sure to cover his nakedness. She was just checking his pulse when Katara dashed into the hut.

"What happened?" Katara asked, glancing from one face to the other. "I heard yelling."

"Zuko woke up," Aang answered, sitting back down on the ground and resting his chin on his knees.

"Oh." Katara looked thoughtfully at the prince. "That would make sense, since the sun is almost at its peak."

"What do you mean?" Yagoda asked, frowning at the younger healer.

Katara shrugged. "Just something Zuko said. I think firebenders gather their energy from the sun, like how waterbenders are more powerful when the moon is up."

"That _would_ make sense," Yagoda agreed, and then she sighed. "It is a shame our people have been at war for so long. I have realised while healing this boy that we do not know as much about firebenders as we think we do. It is fortunate that his chi is so willing to cooperate with our bending."

Katara took an impulsive step forward. "Then you felt it too?"

"Felt what?" Aang asked, scrunching his face up in confusion.

"I have never felt an energy like this young man's," Yagoda said simply. "I do not understand it, but I do know that, by being in contact with his chi, Katara and I were somehow able to heal his body much faster than I thought we would. It is a very strange thing indeed, but certainly providential for him."

"It's as if his energy is alive," Katara murmured, more to herself. "You feel so much warmth, but it's almost as if his chi _knows_ what you're trying to do—like it wants to help you. It's a little unnerving, actually."

Aang said nothing. He knew for a fact that Zuko could heal and that they were probably right in thinking the prince's chi had been aiding them; unfortunately, that was not Aang's secret to tell. He had not forgotten how angry Zuko had got upon being asked how it was that the older boy could heal. Something in Aang sensed that it was probably not a good idea to say anything about that now—especially not with Pukiq and Arrluk listening in. The warriors might be nicer than Iluq and Qaniit, but they were still the prince's enemies. If the world thought that fire healers didn't exist, then there was probably a good reason for that. Aang wasn't about to betray Zuko's trust—not intentionally, anyway.

"Do you think he will wake again?" Aang asked instead.

"The healing sleep will wear off in half an hour, but it's possible he may sleep for longer," Yagoda answered. "Hopefully, our young friend will have calmed down by then." Her eyes fixed on the monk. "As for you, Avatar Aang, I think it's about time you get some rest yourself."

"But—"

"I can assure you that Prince Zuko is not going anywhere. Now off to bed with you. You're making me tired just looking at you with all that yawning you've been doing."

Aang gave a sheepish grin, even as he smothered another yawn. "I suppose a little sleep won't hurt."

"Good."

"What about you?" Katara asked, looking up at the older woman after Aang had mumbled his goodbyes and left the hut. "You haven't had a break since you first started healing last night."

"I know, and I plan on heading to my bed right now," Yagoda said bluntly. "I'm not stubborn enough not to know when my body has had enough."

Katara gestured to the sleeping teen. "What should we do with him?"

A smile curved Yagoda's mouth. "I'm sure you can take over healing for me while I'm gone. His condition is stable enough now. Just make sure that he continues to breathe normally and try to work on getting his ribs back into place. Other than that, the best thing for him is just to sleep."

"And if he wakes up?"

"From what I hear, you're quite capable of handling your own against him." Yagoda winked. "I'm sure you'll have no problem should he try another escape attempt."

Katara blushed, realising Yagoda was referring to her recent fights with Zuko. "I was only trying to protect Aang."

"And so you did." Yagoda placed her hand on the younger healer's shoulder. "Just remember, Katara, out on the battlefield those warriors might like to think that they rule the show, but here in the healing huts _we_ are the ones in charge."

A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of Katara's mouth. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Excellent!" Yagoda turned and spared a glance for the two warriors standing guard by the door. "Perhaps you should think about getting some rest yourselves. It's been a long night for all of us. I'm sure Iluq can find some warriors to replace you."

"If you think it is safe," Pukiq said cautiously.

"Oh, that boy won't be waking up any time soon," Yagoda responded, already heading for the door. "Either way, a half-asleep guard makes poor protection."

Pukiq and Arrluk exchanged relieved glances. Katara could sympathise. The men looked dead on their feet. It really had been a long night; she was just lucky that Yagoda had allowed her to rest once it had been decided that Zuko was stable enough to be moved to the healing huts. Even then, however, Katara had still found herself seeing the glowing light of her bending when she closed her eyes.

After some further prompting from Yagoda and Katara, the two warriors finally left to go find replacements. Soon it was just Katara and Zuko in the hut. The sudden silence was unnerving; all Katara could hear was the gentle crackling of the fire and Zuko's slightly laboured breathing.

"You brought this on yourself, you know," Katara said, narrowing her eyes at the scarred boy. "If you had just left Aang alone, you wouldn't have got injured. Then I wouldn't have had to heal you either."

The prince just breathed, still lost to the anaesthetic powers of the healing sleep. Katara's mouth twisted. She wouldn't admit it aloud, but she didn't like seeing him like this. He had always appeared to her as an unstoppable force: a monster who just kept coming and coming, always pursuing, always attacking. He was angry and hurtful and she had come to rely on that image—her image of the enemy. But this boy in front of her was breakable. This boy could bleed and bruise; she had felt his life in her hands—felt the sheer fragility of his heartbeat as she tried to manipulate his chi to keep the organ working. It made her feel so torn, because now those images weren't matching up. He wasn't just Zuko the monster anymore; he was also Zuko the boy.

Katara wondered if this was how Aang felt when he had said that they had to help Zuko. Perhaps he alone had been the one to recognise that Zuko was human; that the prince, in fact, was not unstoppable, and that every time they had knocked Zuko down, every time they had celebrated with glee at another close escape, they had also been adding to his bruises. They had been hurting _him_.

"I still hate you."

The words were a whisper—even a little defiant—but she still meant every bit of it. She had healed Zuko because Aang had asked her to; because, deep in her heart, she didn't really want to watch someone die when she knew she could do something to stop it. But Zuko was still her enemy. He had tried to take Aang away from her, and she would never forget that. Being forced to recognise that he was human didn't change the poor decisions he had made. Nothing could ever change that.

The prince inhaled a sharp, uneven breath.

Frowning, Katara gathered the water to her hand and placed her palm against Zuko's chest, feeling the knots of energy that blocked his chi meridians and whispered of wrongness. Her knowledge of healing had not allowed her to sense that his ribs had been broken or that his lung had been punctured when she had first tried to mend his injuries—just that something was wrong. Now, thanks to Yagoda's gentle comments and corrections, she could almost see where the bones had cracked and come out of place. Thankfully, she and Yagoda had managed to seal up the hole in his lung before too many complications could arise, though it was true that Yagoda had done most of the work.

Katara sighed and dropped her hand from the prince's chest. She might have held her own in a fight against Zuko in the Spirit Oasis, but he had shown her one thing: she was no healer.

"But I will be," Katara promised herself.

For the sake of learning to fight, she had dismissed her training with Yagoda and had studied combative waterbending with Master Pakku. Thinking back on her decision now, she realised it had been foolish to give up one for the other. The Blue Spirit had been both a fighter and a healer, and he was a male. There was no reason why she could not be both as well. Besides, Katara knew that, even if the other waterbenders did think her weak for learning a women's art, she would feel the better for it. Realising that she could not heal Prince Zuko had been one of the most humbling and devastating moments of her life. She never wanted to feel so helpless again, because next time it might not be an enemy who needed her help. Next time it might be Aang or Sokka, and she could not bear the thought of not being able to save them because of her own pride and ignorance.

Katara closed her hand around the pendant at her throat, shutting her eyes as she felt the carvings dig into her palm. She would never let herself fail her family again.

**oOo**

_Zuko was standing on a bridge. Dimly, he could hear the screams of battle echoing in his ears, but he only had eyes for one man. They had fought for so long and now Zuko had finally got the bastard on his knees; now Zuko was going to make Zhao pay for all the humiliation and pain the admiral had caused him. But then the black waters started moving below and a nightmarish shape took form, casting a shadow over the bridge as the creature grew and grew, glowing with the unearthly power of the Spirit World._

"_No!" Zuko gasped, taking a stumbling step backwards._

_The Ocean Spirit narrowed its eyes and reached down, snatching up the admiral in one swift strike. Zuko tried to help, tried to bring the admiral back to safety, but then the face changed and it was no longer Zhao trapped in that suffocating fist; it was Iroh. _

_Zuko's heart clenched with soul-chilling horror. "Uncle!" he cried, reaching out frantically for the old man. "Uncle, take my hand!"_

_Iroh extended his arm and their fingers almost touched, but then the Ocean Spirit tightened its grip and the moment was gone. Man and spirit were already plunging towards the black waters. _

"_Uncle!" Zuko screamed, leaning over the parapet and making a wild grab for the older man. " Uncle, no! Please, no! _Uncle_!"_

Zuko's eyes snapped open and he could feel his heart pounding in a wild tattoo against his chest. Cold sweat coated his entire body, and he breathed in deeply as he tried to calm his frenetic thoughts. It was a dream. Just a dream. Zhao had been the one who had got dragged into the ocean. Zhao had been the one to suffer the Ocean Spirit's revenge.

But his uncle.

A jolt of sick fear went through Zuko and then he was sitting up in the bed, looking around for any sight of the old man. His uncle. Where was his uncle? His gaze collided with a familiar girl with ocean-blue eyes and he reached out and grabbed the waterbender by the front of her robe, pulling her closer.

"Where is my uncle?" he hissed, barely containing the fire that tingled in his fingertips.

Katara's eyes widened. "I—"

Before she could answer, Zuko's wrist was yanked back, forcing him to release his grip. He turned with a snarl to attack the newcomer, only to be slammed back against the bed, leaving him gasping for air as all of the breath was knocked out of him. Black dots swarmed before his eyes and then he felt hands pressing down on his shoulders and legs, pinning him to the flat surface with ruthless determination.

"No!" Zuko growled, thrashing weakly against the guards' hold. "Let me go! I have to find my uncle! I have to—"

He broke off, coughing and taking in great gulps of air. Spirits, he felt so dizzy.

"Zuko, you need to calm down," Katara said in an exasperated voice. "You're just going to hurt yourself again if you keep fighting like this."

"What do you care?" he snapped, glaring at her through burning gold irises. "It's obvious the only reason you people healed me is because you want your little trophy so you can bargain with the Fire Lord! You all make me sick!"

Katara recoiled as if she had been struck. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He met her gaze fiercely, even as the warriors continued to restrain him. "Then why am I here?"

She looked down at her hands, saying nothing.

Zuko let out a snort of derision. "I thought as much."

One of the warriors—Zuko noticed that these two were different from the first men he had seen in the hut—smacked him on the side of his face. "That's enough out of you, boy!" the warrior said sternly. "You should be grateful that Chief Arnook chose to spare your life. If it was up to the rest of the tribe, you'd be rotting in the ocean along with the rest of your murdering kin."

Zuko's eyes narrowed and a hint of smoke trailed from his nostrils. He was about to respond when the furs sheltering the doorway parted and Yagoda entered the room.

"What is going on in here?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

"The prisoner tried to escape," the warrior who had struck Zuko stated.

"Is this true, young man?" Yagoda asked, giving the teen a disapproving frown. "And here I thought you would have learnt your lesson from the first time."

A hot flush spread over Zuko's face. He was suddenly very grateful for the heavy furs twisted around his waist and legs.

Yagoda shifted her attention to the two warriors. "Well, what are you waiting for? Release him."

"This boy is dangerous! We can't just—"

"He is my patient, Kesuk," Yagoda interrupted. "Believe me when I tell you that he is not going anywhere." She threw a sly grin Zuko's way. "He knows exactly what will happen if he does."

Zuko gritted his teeth, even as he felt his face burn with embarrassment. Horrible old woman.

Kesuk gave Zuko one last look of dislike, then removed his hands from the prince's shoulders. The other warrior followed suit by releasing the grip he'd had on Zuko's legs. Yagoda smiled at both men.

"There now," she said cheerfully, "that's much better. Now we can all get along."

Kesuk's hard gaze flickered back to the healer. "Perhaps you are forgetting who this boy is, Yagoda," he said in a reproachful voice. "Right now he might be your patient, but he is still our enemy."

Some of the warmth faded from Yagoda's eyes. "I am aware of that, Kesuk."

"It doesn't seem that way to me." His mouth twisted with scorn. "This is why a woman is only ever good for healing. Your hearts are too soft, too weak."

Katara opened her mouth to retort, but Yagoda placed a warning hand on the girl's arm.

"If that is how you feel, Kesuk, then perhaps you should leave," Yagoda said calmly. "Clearly, a healing hut is no place for such a strong, uncompromising warrior as yourself."

If Kesuk heard her sarcasm, he chose not to respond to it in kind. Instead, he gave her an ugly look and then stormed out of the hut without a backwards glance. The other warrior stood there a little uncomfortably, looking uncertain as to whether he should follow or not.

Yagoda sighed. "Go, Aguta. It's obvious you do not want to be here."

"But the prisoner—"

"Will stay where he is," Yagoda said firmly. "Don't forget that Katara has also been training under Master Pakku."

Aguta nodded and then left the hut. The two waterbenders let out a sigh—though it must be noted that Katara's was more of an angry huff. Zuko ignored the girl and stared at the older woman intently.

"Those men don't respect you," he observed. "Is it because you're a healer?"

She laughed. "No, it's because I'm a woman."

Zuko's brow creased in confusion. He would never understand the other nations' attitude towards females. In the Fire Nation every person had to earn their own respect. Gender had nothing to do with it, though it was true that males were more likely to be seen in positions of power. He knew, however, that no one would blink twice if a female became the new Fire Lord—an event that seemed more and more likely to happen considering the way Zuko's life was going.

"I hate the way they look down on us," Katara gritted out, clenching her hands into fists.

"Don't let it bother you, Katara," Yagoda said kindly. "Those men can bluster and wave their spears around all they like, but true strength—true strength lies in being able to make the _right_ decisions, not just the expected ones." She met Zuko's pale gold eyes. "Such as choosing to heal an enemy, not because you are weak, but because you are strong enough to see that it is the honourable thing to do."

Zuko averted his face. He did not want to hear about honour right now.

"Would you not agree, young man?" Yagoda persisted.

Zuko said nothing.

Katara sighed and sat back down on the cushion near the bed. "Well, at least we don't have those two warriors breathing down our necks anymore."

"You're right," Yagoda agreed, and then she crossed over to Zuko's side. "Now then, since there's no one left to interrupt us, let's take a look at how those ribs of yours are doing."

Without even thinking about it, Zuko grasped her wrist before she could touch him. A second later he felt the tip of an icicle dig into his neck.

"Let her go," Katara ordered, narrowing her eyes as she held the jagged piece of ice steady.

"Wait," Yagoda said, waving her free hand at the younger waterbender. She stared back at Zuko, and there was a hint of understanding in her blue irises. "I see now. You do not like to be touched, do you?"

Zuko held her gaze for a long moment and then he looked the other way, releasing his grip on her wrist. "I want to know where my uncle is," he said in a hard voice.

"Your uncle?"

"General Iroh," Zuko elaborated, and then he threw a heated glance at Katara. "He was there with you at the Spirit Oasis; he was the one who tried to stop Zhao from killing the Moon Spirit. You must know what happened to him!"

Katara shook her head and removed the icicle from his neck. "After Princess Yue became the new Moon Spirit, the general said he was going to look for you. We never saw him again after that." She hesitated. "I—I'm sorry."

Zuko pressed his face against his palms, shaking his head from side to side as if the motion could somehow banish the truth he had seen in Katara's eyes. His uncle had been looking for him—for _him_—but Zuko had got caught. Their paths had never crossed, so what had happened to his uncle?

"What of the other war prisoners?" he asked, lifting his face from his hands and staring at the healers with unnaturally bright eyes. "There must have been others, right?"

"Just some foot soldiers and firebenders, from what Sokka told me," Katara answered. "None of them were particularly high ranking. The rest of the navy fled back to the few ships that were still sailable or were—"

She broke off, but she didn't need to say the words. The rest had been killed.

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. So there were only two possible scenarios: his uncle had been killed or else his uncle had fled the city. Except Zuko just couldn't—_wouldn't_—accept that his uncle was dead; he tried not to think about the alternative. Just the thought that his uncle might have abandoned him to these people made something hurt deep inside of him, as if there were bruises all over his heart and someone was pushing down on each and every one with sadistic pleasure.

His mother had disappeared. His father had banished him. Now his uncle had—

"_Ever since I lost my son ... I think of you as my own."_

"No," Zuko whispered, pressing his face back against his hands as something hot prickled at the corners of his eyes.

He knew his uncle would never abandon him. Not intentionally. His uncle must have had his reasons for leaving, just like his father had no choice but to banish Zuko all of those years ago. It wasn't that they wanted to hurt him; it was just that Zuko had made things difficult for them. He'd spoken out of turn and disrespected the Fire Lord, and now he'd got himself caught by the Northern Water Tribe. It wasn't their fault; it was his, which is why Zuko knew that he would have to be the one to fix the matter.

_I will find you again, Uncle,_ Zuko swore to himself.

He didn't care how long it took. He would escape from this city of ice and then he would meet up with his uncle just like he had promised that he would. Everything would be alright then. Everything would go back to normal. They'd find the Avatar and then—then maybe Zuko could go home. Then maybe he could be reunited with his father as well, except this time his father would not look at him as if he was worthless. This time his father would have to be proud, because Zuko would have succeeded where no one else had. He would have captured the Avatar. He would have restored his honour.

But first he would have to find his uncle.

Zuko took in a shuddering breath, feeling his throat burn from the effort of holding back his tears. He refused to cry in front of the waterbenders. He wasn't a child anymore. He could be strong, but that didn't change the fact that it still hurt. For almost three years he had travelled with his uncle. Now he was alone.

"My dagger," Zuko said in a thick voice, raising his head slightly to meet Yagoda's gaze. "What did you do with it?"

"Why would you want to know that?" Yagoda demanded, eyeing him sharply.

_Don't cry. Don't cry._

"My uncle gave it to me when I was a boy. It is—" he swallowed hard "—it's important to me."

Yagoda's expression softened with sympathy. "I see. I will make sure it is safe."

He nodded his head in acknowledgement and then looked the other way, but not before he caught the wide-eyed look the younger waterbender was giving him. Suddenly self-conscious for the weakness he had displayed, Zuko glared at her with perhaps more anger than was necessary.

"What?" he snarled. "This isn't a show, you know!"

"I know. I was just—"

"I don't need your pity!"

Her eyes narrowed. "You know what, you don't deserve it either! You're a cruel, horrible person! All you've ever cared about is capturing Aang! If anything, your uncle is probably better off without you!"

"Katara!" Yagoda exclaimed. "That's enough!"

The girl just turned her back on the two of them. "I'm sorry, Yagoda," she said in a voice that trembled with emotion, "I can't help you heal him anymore. I guess I'm not that strong, after all."

Without waiting for a response, she stalked out of the hut and was lost to their sight as the furs fell back into place. Zuko clenched his hands into fists, inwardly fuming even as the bruises on his heart throbbed a little bit more. He would never admit it, but her words had hit him hard.

"_Your uncle is probably better off without you!"_

He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe she was right, but he would still look for his uncle regardless. He'd already lost his mother. He was not about to let his uncle vanish from his life, too. There had to be a way he could escape this place. Maybe he could even try again now, since the only combative waterbender had left. He was sure he could find some clothes somewhere and then—

The furs covering the doorway parted again and Zuko's eyes narrowed as he watched the warriors enter the hut. There were four of them—tall, strong men with weapons and water skins glinting from within the folds of their furs; a collection of waterbenders and non-benders, then. One of the non-benders was Iluq, the same warrior who had tried to threaten Zuko with a knife and who had almost killed him with a single kick to the ribs. Then Zuko saw that the other was Kesuk and he knew something was wrong.

"What is the meaning of this?" Yagoda demanded, getting to her feet. "This boy is—"

"This boy is coming with us," Iluq interjected in a voice that brooked no argument.

"But—"

"You have healed him enough, Yagoda." Icy blue eyes narrowed. "Or are you going to go against your Head Warrior now?"

The old woman lowered her gaze.

Satisfied, Iluq threw a handful of what looked like ragged bits of cloth and fur at Zuko. "Put these on," he ordered, "and hurry up about it."

Zuko frowned but did as he was told, occasionally throwing wary glances at the men. When he had finished doing up the last tie, one of the waterbenders grasped him by the arm and pulled him into the centre of the group, barricading the prince within a wall of bodies. Even if Zuko wasn't still feeling so weak and dizzy, he knew that he would not be able to fight them all and escape.

"Walk!" the waterbender ordered gruffly.

Zuko obeyed because he had no choice, but after a while he began to feel frustrated. He hated not knowing what was going on.

"Where are you taking me?" Zuko asked, glancing up at Iluq, who was leading the group.

"To your new home, Prince Zuko," the warrior responded. "I hope the prisons will be to your liking."

* * *

Okay, so I know Yagoda isn't _exactly_ how she is depicted in the show, but she was Kanna's friend, and I like to think that she still has some spunk to her.

In any case, since I took the time to write this while huddled up in my bed like the snotty hermit from hell (because, you know, sick people have so much to do), I hope that you will take the time to leave a comment. It's only fair. ^_~


	10. The Lines that Divide Us

Bluelaw/Autore: I couldn't respond to your review, so I'll just say it here. The word 'tint'—or 'tinted' as I have used—often does refer to colour or vision, but it can also mean a slight modifying quality, trace, or characteristic. So 'water-tinted' is still correct. Oh, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

I'd also like to thank my other unsigned reviewers. Even if I can't respond, I really do appreciate your comments. ^_^

* * *

**The Lines that Divide Us**

Zuko could not say that he was pleased with his new accommodations. Like every building in the city, the cell he had been given was made completely of ice. Thick ice. There were also no windows or doors, though there was a small gap in the top of the front wall that allowed air to circulate. From what Zuko could tell, it took a waterbender to get in or out of the cell. This added level of security had not particularly bothered the prince at first. He was a firebender; he had been confident that he would be able to use his bending to burn a path through the wall. Unfortunately, the energy it took to maintain even the smallest plume of flames for that long in his current condition had left him so exhausted that by the time he had created a large enough hole to crawl through, the guards stationed outside had simply grabbed him by the arms and hauled him back in. Then the ice was replaced and Zuko had realised that he would have to come up with a better plan. At least until he could firebend for longer than a minute without wanting to pass out.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko stood up from the fur blanket that served as his bed and started his usual routine of pacing up and down. The cell was so compact that he could only take a few steps before he was forced to turn back around. After living on a ship for almost three years, the prince was used to enclosed spaces and not having much room to move around, but this was different. At least on the ship he had still had a purpose and had known where he was going; there was nowhere to go in this cell—nothing even to break the monotony. All he had for company was a scraggly fur blanket, a chamber pot, and his own bad temper. The guards didn't even bother to speak to him when they brought him his meals—if one could even call the disgusting slop they served him food.

Zuko clenched his hands into fists and glared at the wall where his silent visitors usually entered. There had to be a way to get out of this place. He couldn't stand being forced to sit around doing nothing. Being idle just wasn't in his nature. He was used to _doing_ things: training, fighting, studying—anything but this. He'd rather be stuck with that lecherous old healer again than trapped in this tiny prison like some caged animal. The worst part, though, was that he didn't know what would happen to him if he couldn't figure out a way to escape soon. It wouldn't take the council of warriors long to realise that their scheme to use him as a negotiation tool with the Fire Lord was not going to work. Zuko knew his father. As much as it hurt to admit, Ozai would never compromise any kind of advantage he had over his enemies just to rescue a banished son he thought of as worthless.

Pale fists trembled slightly. Zuko clenched his hands tighter to stop the motion, creating crescent-shaped indents on his palms. He didn't blame his father. Zuko had indeed proven himself to be worthless. He'd failed to capture the Avatar, despite the many opportunities he had been offered, and then he'd gone and got himself caught by the Northern Water Tribe—not because he'd been fighting heroically against a hoard of waterbenders, but because he'd just been too weak and injured to even notice the non-bending warriors coming up behind him. It was pathetic; _he_ was pathetic, but Zuko had never let failure or a lack of outside aid stop him before. He just dreaded what would happen once the Northern Water Tribe realised their prized prisoner wasn't so prized after all. Maybe they would kill him, or maybe they'd just leave him in this cell to rot. Neither option was particularly appealing.

_It doesn't matter_, Zuko told himself, still pacing up and down. _I'm going to get out of here. I just need to recuperate my strength and then—_

The sound of ice splitting had him turning to face the front wall. A crease formed on his brow as he saw a man with a thin white moustache and beard enter the cell, then seal the opening in the ice back up with a flick of his wrist. A waterbender then, and probably a high-ranking one, too, if the quality of that blue-dyed fur was anything to go by. Zuko's heart quickened as he wondered if this was going to be his first real interrogation. He had known it would happen eventually, and his stomach twisted with unease as he looked into those piercing blue eyes. Zuko had never been a good liar, and this man had an air of shrewdness about him that the prince did not like. Instead of saying anything, however, Zuko just watched the other man warily. He'd played this game before, and he knew better than to make the first move.

"So you're the prince of the Fire Nation," the man observed, looking him up and down with critical blue eyes. "Oh, forgive me. The _banished_ prince."

Zuko's jaw tightened. So this man knew he was no longer the heir apparent to the Fire Nation throne. That could be a problem. From what Zuko had seen of the Northern Water Tribe, most of the people had no clue of the politics going on in the outside world. They had shut themselves up behind their walls and only bothered to open their eyes to the truth when the war came knocking on their doorstep. This man was different, though. Zuko knew he would have to tread carefully.

The old waterbender created a stool out of ice and sat down, looking quite at ease. "My name is Master Pakku," he said, and then he paused and raised an eyebrow at Zuko. "Are you going to sit or are you going to keep standing there like a fool and trying to give me a crick in the neck?"

Zuko flushed and sat down cross-legged on the blanket, feeling suddenly like he was eight-years-old again and being scolded by Master Mizuto for not using the correct breathing technique. He had to remind himself that this man was not his old firebending tutor and that he was sixteen and a warrior in his own right. It would not do to show weakness or any kind of subservience.

"As I was saying," Master Pakku continued, apparently satisfied now that he no longer had to look up at the prince, "my name is Master Pakku and I am the leader and instructor of the waterbenders in this tribe. I am also one of the chief's advisors." He paused again, and his voice softened to a dangerous geniality. "You've made things very difficult for us, Prince Zuko. Do you know that?"

Zuko swallowed. He would have liked to have said that he hadn't asked to be captured, among other less flattering things, but silence was his best defence here. If he spoke, he could give the man an opening to be exploited. Azula had shown Zuko time and time again just how easily he allowed himself to be steered into verbal traps; he wasn't about to make the same mistake again. No, it was best just to play it safe.

Master Pakku did not seem to be discouraged by Zuko's silence. Instead, he leaned forward, meeting the prince's eyes with a disconcertingly direct gaze. "Do you want to know what the council of warriors have been discussing for the past three days, Prince Zuko?"

"Well, since you're in this cell, I'm guessing it's about me."

_Stupid. Keep your mouth shut!_

Master Pakku merely smiled at the prince's sarcasm, if rather wryly. "You're right. We have been discussing you. Or, should I say, we have been discussing what to do with you." He interlaced his fingers together on his lap, still watching the teen closely. "You see, keeping you a prisoner has caused quite a problem for us. Iluq believes we could ransom you to the Fire Lord for peace negotiations; I think that is unlikely, considering the Fire Lord has banished you. Still, it is a persuasive argument and has caused much conflict within the tribe, as some of the other warriors are afraid that, by keeping you here, we will be asking for another attack from the Fire Nation—banished prince or not. They would prefer to have you killed or sent to the Earth Kingdom where someone else can deal with you, along with the rest of the Fire Nation war prisoners."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to understand the precariousness of your situation." The old waterbender gave another of his dry smiles. "I also want you to understand how tediously complicated you have made things for my tribe because of your reckless stupidity in trying to infiltrate a city of known enemies when a battle was taking place and the risk of capture was high."

Gold eyes flashed with rage. "You think I didn't already know that? You think I didn't understand the risks?"

"Obviously not, since you allowed yourself to be caught."

Zuko glared. "You don't know anything, old man."

"Why don't you enlighten me, then?"

Zuko clamped his mouth shut. He was not going to take the bait, especially when he wasn't sure what exactly it was that the man was trying to get out of him.

Master Pakku eyed him thoughtfully. "You know, your uncle was never this uncooperative."

Zuko's heart pounded and he swallowed against the sudden dryness of his throat. "My uncle? What are you talking about? What does he have to do with this?"

An unreadable gleam crept into the piercing blue eyes. "Ah, it seems I've hit a sensitive spot."

Too late did Zuko realise his mistake. He suddenly wondered if Yagoda and Katara had been lying to him. Maybe his uncle had been caught. Maybe the warriors had been interrogating Iroh the whole time that Zuko had been recovering in the healing hut. His stomach twisted at the thought, but it was anger that burned in his expression.

"What have you done to my uncle?" he demanded, half-leaning forward as if about to attack. "If you've hurt him, I swear—"

"Calm yourself, Prince Zuko," Master Pakku said in a flat voice. "General Iroh and I have merely had dealings together in the past. It is not so surprising. The war has been going on for a hundred years and your uncle led many battles before his failure at Ba Sing Se."

"Then he's not—he's not—"

"He has not been captured by the Northern Water Tribe, if that is what you're asking."

Zuko couldn't quite hide his relief, which Master Pakku did not miss.

"You care for him deeply, don't you?" the older man observed.

"What kind of question is that?" Zuko snarled, curling his hands into fists.

"A very straightforward one, but that answer will suffice. I am satisfied."

Gold eyes narrowed. "Satisfied with what?"

"That is my business." Master Pakku stood up from his stool and let the chair melt back into the ice floor. "Oh, and you might want to refrain from trying any more escape attempts. As I have already told you, your position in the tribe is precarious. If you keep being difficult for the guards, I'm afraid that not even Chief Arnook will be able to protect you. A dangerous prisoner is not a prisoner worth keeping. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Zuko gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Good."

Without a further word, Master Pakku turned and left the cell, sealing the path up behind him so that Zuko was left staring at a block of ice. It was almost a relief to be alone again, but Zuko could not shake the uneasy feeling that twisted his stomach. That had been a very strange interrogation, and he hated the fact that he still had no idea what it was exactly that the old waterbender had been trying to get out of him.

"I don't understand," Zuko muttered.

He didn't feel like he had given any solid information, but apparently he had revealed enough to satisfy the man. It was unnerving.

Zuko leaned back against the icy wall, feeling the cold sink through his borrowed clothes and shiver up and down his skin. Well, at least he had an idea of what the Northern Water Tribe was planning to do with him now. Not that the answer had been especially comforting, but any knowledge was better than the imagined scenarios his mind had been offering him. He also understood now that he would have to be very careful about how he planned his escape from the North. Master Pakku had given him a warning—an unexpected one, but a sincere warning nonetheless. Zuko would have to be patient and wait for the opportune moment if he wanted to get out of this alive, because he certainly did not plan on staying trapped in this frozen hovel.

_I'll find a way somehow_, he promised himself.

He had to get out of here. He had to find his uncle, and then he would finish his mission and capture the Avatar.

_Aang_, a voice in his mind reminded.

Zuko shoved the thought aside. Maybe once he had allowed himself to be distracted by the kid's friendliness and apparent innocence, but not anymore. Zuko had seen the devastation the Avatar had caused. Even now when he closed his eyes, he could still see the broken ships glowing like ghostly wreckages under the silver light of the moon—still see the bodies floating in the water like some grotesque offering to the Ocean Spirit. That was not something he could just forget.

_But he did help you_, the same voice persisted. _He saved your life—even defended you in front of the Northern Water Tribe. You know it's true._

Zuko closed his eyes. It didn't matter. He knew his duty. He knew what he had to do. He was a prince of the Fire Nation and he would protect his people. He would not let those soldiers' deaths be in vain.

**oOo**

It was the last day that Aang and the others would be staying within the city of the Northern Water Tribe. Tomorrow, they would be heading to the Earth Kingdom base, where they would be given a guard to escort them to Omashu so Aang could learn earthbending from King Bumi. Everything was working out, except Aang still felt terrible. It had been three days since Zuko had been moved from the healing huts to the prisons, and though Aang had pleaded with the guards and even Chief Arnook to let him see the prince, no one had granted him access to the cell. It was safer for Aang to stay away, they had suggested. Prince Zuko was too unpredictable; they could not afford to take any risks where the Avatar was concerned. They were sure that Aang would understand.

Aang had understood, but that didn't mean he had been happy with the decision. He didn't believe that Zuko would hurt him; however, what was more worrying were the rumours that Aang had heard about what the tribe was planning to do with the prince. He didn't like to think that it was true that Chief Arnook would allow Zuko to be executed or shipped off to the Earth Kingdom to be dealt with there, but Aang could also vividly remember how the other warriors had looked at the older boy—as if Zuko were a monster that needed to be stamped out; as if he were less than human and had no worth beyond the tactical advantage he could potentially offer the tribe.

It had been enough to make Aang want to barge into the prisons and break the prince out himself—a thought that he had secretly considered more than once over the past few days. Yes, Zuko was Fire Nation; yes, the teen was their enemy, but Aang knew that Zuko would never have stepped foot inside the North had he himself not come to learn waterbending. The prince had only ever been trying to capture him, and even then Zuko had never gone out of his way to hurt Aang if he could help it—even going so far as to heal the airbender after their escape from Pohuai Stronghold. But now it was Zuko who was being held prisoner, and Aang couldn't shake the stabbing feeling in his gut that suggested he should be doing something about that.

"There you are!"

Aang glanced up from where he had been resting against Appa and saw Sokka striding towards him.

"Hey, Sokka," Aang greeted in a heavy voice, not quite able to keep the inner turmoil he was feeling from creeping into his tone. "Where's Katara?"

"Still training with Yagoda."

"Right."

Sokka frowned. "You okay? You've been a bit quiet over the past few days."

Aang hugged his knees to his chest. "Just been thinking, that's all."

"Me too," Sokka admitted. "About the battle and ... Yue."

Aang felt something clench in his heart, but he looked at his friend steadily enough. "She's still with us, Sokka. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

There was a pause as both boys got lost in their own thoughts. Sokka pulled himself together a second later and focussed his attention back on Aang, as if he were only just remembering how they had got to discussing Yue in the first place.

"So what's been eating you?" Sokka asked, sitting down next to the younger boy.

Aang sighed. "I'm worried about Zuko."

"Zuko?" Sokka exclaimed in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I don't think he's safe here, and I can't help but feel like it's my fault he got captured."

Sokka's eyebrows tried to vanish off his forehead. "Seriously, Aang, I know airbenders are all into respecting life and making peace and all that, but this is Zuko we're talking about. _Zuko_. You know, the guy who has been trying to kill us nonstop since you first got out of that iceberg? You should be happy he's being held prisoner. At least he can't chase us now."

Aang shook his head. "You don't understand. You weren't there with him in the cave. I really don't think he wants to hurt anyone."

"Sure, apart from the fact that he threw fireballs at us every time we came across him."

"You don't understand," Aang repeated, hugging his knees more tightly to his chest.

A crease formed on Sokka's brow. "You're serious about this, aren't you? You really are worried about the jerk."

"You saw the way they treated him, Sokka, even though it was obvious that he was injured. Iluq nearly killed him, and if it wasn't for Katara and Yagoda, he'd probably be dead right now. How can I just leave him here when I know that he's in danger and has no one to defend him?"

Sokka squirmed uncomfortably. "Okay, yes, I'll admit that Iluq and some of those other warriors could give even Zuko a run for his money when it comes to who's the biggest jerk, but there's nothing you can do, Aang. Maybe you feel sorry for Zuko; maybe you even feel guilty, but Katara is right. You never made Zuko follow you here. It's his own fault he got captured. You can't interfere with that."

"It still doesn't feel right."

"That doesn't mean you should interfere with Chief Arnook's decisions."

Aang ignored this remark and clenched his hands into fists. "I just wish they'd let me see him. At least then I'd be able to see if he's okay, but they won't even let me near his cell!"

Sokka exhaled noisily. "It really means that much to you to know that Zuko is safe?"

"Yes!"

"Fine."

Aang blinked. "Wait, what?"

"I said fine. Let's do this."

"Uh, do what?"

Sokka grinned. "I mean I'm going to help you get an audience with Prince Jerkbender, that's what."

Aang threw his arms around the older boy in an impulsive hug. "Thank you!" he breathed.

"I wouldn't start celebrating just yet," Sokka responded, detaching himself from Aang and getting to his feet. "I said I'd help you, but that doesn't mean this is going to work. The guards still might refuse to let you in."

"It'll work," Aang said decisively. "Your plans always work."

They both considered this declaration for a moment and decided to ignore the many times Sokka's plans had crashed and burned in a giant explosion of failure. Much better to stay optimistic.

In the end, Aang had been right to trust in his friend's scheming abilities. A bit of bribery, some questionably acquired alcohol, and a few games of Sānliù Bàozi had seen the frozen wall that led to Zuko's cell open. Sokka had chosen to stay outside and keep the warriors company—or, rather, make sure no one else found out about the little tryst—so that left Aang to enter the cell alone. This was exactly what Aang had wanted, and he wasted no time in stepping through into the frozen chamber, remembering that the guards had only given him ten minutes.

Zuko was sitting on a scraggly blanket on the floor, and for a moment the two boys just stared at each other as the wall of ice sealed back up behind Aang. Then the gold eyes narrowed and Aang felt a tremor of heat emanate from the prince in a wave of tightly controlled emotion.

"You," Zuko said in a soft growl, clenching his hands into fists. "What are you doing here?"

Aang took a step forward. "I came to see if you were alright. None of the warriors would let me visit you after you got moved from the healing hut, and I—"

A bitter laugh from the older boy had Aang falling silent.

"I don't believe this," Zuko said, twisting his mouth in disgust. "I don't believe _you_."

"W-what are you talking about?"

Zuko gave him a look of such open loathing that Aang actually recoiled. "Do you really think you can just waltz in here and act like everything is fine between us after what you did? That I would even want any help, let alone concern, from _you_?"

A crease formed on Aang's brow. "I don't understand."

"You killed them!" Zuko shouted, slamming his fist on the ground. "My people! My crew! Lieutenant Jee, Nozomi, Kan! They're all gone, and it's because of you! You killed them all!"

Aang stumbled back, feeling as if he had been struck. "I don't—I didn't—"

"Don't try to deny it!" Zuko snarled, getting to his feet and slashing his hand angrily through the air. "I saw the bodies! I saw the ships! No Water Tribe army could have done that, but you—you most definitely could."

"It wasn't me!" Aang exclaimed. "The Ocean Spirit—"

"Don't you dare try to blame this on the Ocean Spirit! That _thing_ only wanted to get revenge for the Moon Spirit's death; it would have been satisfied with just killing Zhao. But you—you wanted to hurt the Fire Nation itself! You destroyed those ships! You killed those people!"

"No!" Aang shook his head even as hot tears prickled at his eyes. "You don't understand. I was in the Avatar State; I can't control what I'm doing when I'm like that. It just—"

"Then you should have never gone into the Avatar State in the first place!"

There was a harsh silence. Aang dropped his gaze to the ground, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"I couldn't help it," he whispered. "I was angry; the Moon Spirit was dead, the waterbenders were defenceless, and the Fire Nation was overrunning the city."

"So you just decided to merge with the Ocean Spirit and kill everyone?"

"I told you that wasn't me!" Aang defended, clenching his hands into fists. "I never wanted to hurt _anyone_, but the Fire Nation had just destroyed the Moon Spirit, and I—"

"Admiral Zhao is _not_ the Fire Nation!"

There was another painful silence as the two boys stared at each other: Zuko glaring, while Aang just looked distressed and defensive. Then the prince turned the other way, facing his back to Aang.

"Do you know that most of the Fire Nation army and navy are made up of conscripted soldiers?" Zuko asked softly, still keeping his back turned. "Every household in the Fire Nation has to offer up at least one member for service, regardless of their situation. It's considered a great honour to serve your nation, but everyone knows that if you refuse, you and your household will either go to prison or be executed."

Something twisted in Aang's stomach. He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

Zuko turned back to stare at Aang, meeting his eyes steadily. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Avatar? Most of those people who died during the siege probably didn't even want to be there. They would have much preferred to have been at home with their families, but instead they found themselves trying to fight a monster they could not even defend against. They found themselves up against _you_."

"I didn't—I was just trying to protect the Northern Water Tribe."

"Well, congratulations, because you also slaughtered hundreds of good men and women in the process."

A fresh tear rolled down Aang's cheek. "It wasn't me," he whispered. "It can't have been me."

Zuko snorted in disgust. "Deny it all you want, but nothing can change the fact that those people are dead because you chose to call upon the powers of the Ocean Spirit."

Aang couldn't believe it—refused to believe it—but the truth stared back at him from those pale gold irises. He had gone into the Avatar State; he had summoned the Ocean Spirit, and even though he had never wanted to hurt anyone, it was still his body that had manipulated the mass of deadly water that had torn the Fire Nation ships apart and swept the soldiers clear of the city.

"No." Aang slumped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "No, no, no."

It wasn't him. It was the Ocean Spirit; it was the Avatar State controlling him. There was no way that _he_ could have wanted to kill those people. He had only been trying to protect the Northern Water Tribe. He had only been trying to drive the ships away. He had never, _never_ wanted to kill anyone.

"It can't be true," Aang said in a pained voice, trembling slightly from the turmoil whirling around inside him. "It just can't."

Zuko said nothing, but the hard expression on his face was answer enough. It was clear that he felt Aang was responsible for the deaths of the Fire Nation soldiers. It was also clear that he hated the younger boy for it.

Aang reached out for the prince imploringly. "Zuko, you know I would never—"

"Don't touch me!" Zuko hissed, taking a step back. "Don't even speak to me!"

"But—"

"No! The fact that you can't accept responsibility for what you've done just makes me sick! I can't even stand to look at you right now!"

Aang bit down on his quivering lip, trying to hold back a sob. "You don't understand. I was just—"

Zuko let out a growl and flames suddenly sprouted from his clenched fists, flickering dangerously in flashes of orange and red. "Get out," he ordered in a harsh voice.

"But—"

"_Now_!"

"Zuko, please. Please, just—"

A stream of fire surged past Aang's face, and he could feel the heat of the flames graze his cheek. He stared at the prince with wide eyes.

"Leave," Zuko gritted out, "or I swear I will make you suffer for every death you have caused."

Aang swallowed against the burning lump in his throat. His cheeks were damp with tears and his stomach was twisted into guilty knots, but more than that was the pain in his heart. This was the boy who had saved him—_healed_ him—and now there was nothing but hate and anger in those pale gold irises. It was as if he was looking into the prince's face for the first time all over again.

"I'm sorry," Aang whispered. "I truly am sorry. I never meant to hurt those people. Not like that."

"But you did."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe. Maybe not. It was too painful. He didn't want to think about it.

Zuko sighed tiredly. "Enough of this. Just go, Avatar."

More tears rolled down Aang's cheeks. "I don't want you to hate me."

Gold collided with grey, tangling in a mesh of emotions and unspoken words. Then Zuko turned his back on the younger boy, and though the prince was close enough to touch, it felt to Aang as if a great divide had sprung up between them.

"Any respect I held for you was lost the moment you chose to kill my people in such a dishonourable way," Zuko said bluntly. "The attack on the North should never have happened, and Zhao was an idiot to try to destroy the Moon Spirit, but that gave you no right to kill those soldiers without even giving them a chance to defend themselves. It was cruel and wrong. If that's your method of keeping the balance, Avatar, then I want nothing to do with you."

Something cold settled in the pit of Aang's stomach. Before he could respond, the wall of ice slid down and one of the guards stepped into the room.

"Time's up, Avatar Aang."

Aang continued to stare at Zuko from his position on the floor, but the prince did not turn to face him. It was just like being back in the clearing after their escape from Pohuai Stronghold, except this time there was no fireball. Aang's heart thudded once, twice, and with every beat he felt as if the organ was being shredded apart in his chest.

"_If we knew each other back then ... do you think we could have been friends?"_

The answer had been no. Now, after everything they had shared together, the answer was still no. Closing his eyes in pained resignation, Aang got to his feet and headed for the door. He paused on the threshold, glancing back at the proud figure of the Fire Nation prince.

"I'm sorry, Zuko," Aang said in a small voice. "I know it doesn't change anything, but I am sorry. I truly never meant for those soldiers to be killed."

Zuko's shoulders tensed, but he did not move from his position or say anything. Aang sighed and followed the guard out of the cell. The sound of the frozen wall sealing back up was like a knife to his heart, but no tears fell this time.

"Hey, you okay?" Sokka asked, catching sight of Aang's expression.

"I don't know," Aang said truthfully.

"What happened? Did that jerk try to hurt you?"

Aang shook his head.

"Then what?"

"I think I might have hurt myself."

Sokka scrunched his face up in confusion. "Okay, that makes no sense, but sure."

Aang said nothing. He was trying not to think about everything Zuko had said to him—still trying to convince himself that the deaths of the Fire Nation soldiers had not really been his fault. Except he couldn't quite stop the little whispers of truth from slipping through into his mind, like grains of sand escaping cupped hands.

"_It was cruel and wrong. If that's your method of keeping the balance, Avatar, then I want nothing to do with you."_

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe Zuko was right or maybe he wasn't. Either way, Aang knew he could not let things go like this. He might not be able to salvage the friendship he had been forming with the teen, but he could at least do one thing right.

Tonight, he was going to break Prince Zuko out of prison.

**oOo**

It had taken Zuko a long time to fall asleep that night, and when he did he slept fretfully, tossing and turning on his blanket in a restless confusion of emotions that even sleep could not ease. That was how he sensed the moment when there was someone else in the cell with him. Gold eyes snapping open, Zuko sat up with a fireball in hand to take the intruder unawares, but all he saw was the shadowed form of his own outline imprinted on the ice. Then he noticed the large gap carved into the front wall, just allowing him a glimpse into the adjoining corridor.

"What?" he murmured with a frown.

His knee brushed against something hard, and he glanced down in surprise to see a folded piece of parchment resting underneath a beautifully crafted dagger. Zuko's heart quickened as he closed his hand around the hilt, feeling the familiar grooves caress his fingers. He didn't need to remove the knife from its sheath to know what the inscription would say on the sharpened metal.

"Never give up without a fight," Zuko whispered, closing his eyes. "Uncle."

For a moment he was filled with an intense ache of longing, but he pulled himself together a second later and tucked the dagger into his boot. Picking up the piece of parchment from the ground, he unfolded it and scanned the script. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the words had him trembling in disbelief. Someone wanted to help him escape.

Zuko glanced back at the open doorway and then, making his decision, slipped the parchment into his pocket. Cautiously, he made his way out of the cell, pausing when he spotted the guards slumped on the ground in the corridor. So it seemed the anonymous note writer had not been lying; the path really had been cleared for him.

Knowing better than to waste another second, Zuko left the prisons and followed the instructions on the note to the outskirts of the city, where his benefactor said a means of transportation was waiting for him. There were only a few warriors on patrol this late at night and they were all effortless to avoid. In no time at all Zuko was at the designated spot, half-believing that he would find nothing but an icy beach. Instead, he saw a small but durable raft banked on the shore, which could easily be steered by one person. Stocked on the raft was a pack of food rations, a decent supply of water, one paddle to steer in case the winds should die, and furs to keep him warm. There was also another piece of parchment.

Zuko picked up the note and frowned as a white lotus tile rolled free of the folds. He caught the wooden counter and then glanced down at the characters written on the parchment.

"Follow the path of the ancient ways and you will find what you are seeking," he read aloud. "If you are wise, you will not return to this place again."

Zuko rolled his eyes. A convoluted riddle and an unnecessary warning; it was like being back with his uncle all over again. Still, he had time enough to figure out what it all meant. Right now he just had to focus on getting out of this place.

Stuffing the tile into his pocket, Zuko pushed the raft out more into the water and then clambered on top, taking hold of the rope to control the sail. He tried not to think of all the unfinished business he was leaving behind—of the failures and the pain, and especially not of the boy who had tearfully whispered that he didn't want Zuko to hate him. Instead, the prince closed his eyes and breathed in the cold, salty air, letting it renew him with a sense of freedom and direction.

It was time to press forward. It was time to find his uncle.

**oOo**

The cell was empty. Aang stared at the scraggly furs on the floor and saw the indentations where a body had slept. His heart clenched as he realised the truth. Zuko was gone.

"I'm too late," Aang whispered, feeling suddenly as if all of the energy had been drained from his body.

Somehow, Zuko had managed to escape by himself and now Aang would never know if he could have made things better between them. It was a disappointing discovery, but Aang could not begrudge the prince his freedom. He was glad that Zuko had managed to get free, even if it did mean losing the opportunity to speak to the older boy again.

"I hope the next time we meet will be under better circumstances," Aang murmured to the empty cell.

Because he knew there would be a next time. In fact, he was counting on it.


	11. Truth and Lies

**Truth and Lies**

Leaving the Northern Water Tribe had been a relief for Aang. The warriors had been in an uproar when it was revealed that Prince Zuko had escaped, furious that their enemy and—at least for Iluq and his supporters—supposed bargaining tool with the Fire Lord had slipped free from their grasp. Only Master Pakku had not seemed to care, stating that he was not going to let one escaped prince get in the way of his plans to leave and help rebuild the Southern Water Tribe. He suggested that Aang and the others should do the same and offered to take them as far with him on the boat as he could before they had to depart for the Earth Kingdom base.

So it was that Aang and his friends had set sail with Master Pakku and the selected group of Northern Water Tribe warriors and healers. Yagoda had not come, which Aang knew had upset Katara at first; however, the elderly healer had told Katara that there was little more she could do to teach the waterbender. At the end of the day, healing was an instinctive art; a knowledge of the body helped, but one had to have the right intuition if one was to become a Master Healer. That was why powerful healers were rare, even amongst the Northern Water Tribe where all female waterbenders were forced to learn the art. Aang had discovered for himself that, despite being the Avatar, he could not make his waterbending heal even the smallest bruise. He felt sorry for the girls who had also had no knack for the talent; it was his hope that they would be allowed to learn combative waterbending instead, like Katara had done. He didn't like to think of benders not being able to use their element just because they couldn't pick up a skill the tribe had decreed to be the only suitable form of bending for a female. It just didn't seem right.

Musing about right and wrong, however, just got Aang thinking about his own problem—the one he had been desperately trying to ignore ever since he and Zuko had talked in the cell. As the Avatar, it was his duty to maintain balance and to protect the people around him. He had thought he had been doing that during the siege of the North, but now he wasn't so certain. Every time he slept he had nightmares where he was back in the Avatar State, only this time he was attacking himself. It was scary. _He_ was scary.

Aang squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images. He didn't want to dwell on those dreams. He didn't want to dwell on that night. Because there were some things that Aang could not deny, even though he desperately wished it were otherwise. Shredded pieces of metal could not unite again to form hundreds of war ships; bloated, frozen bodies could not renew with warmth and life. It would be easy enough to connect the pieces—to combine the angry words that had been thrown at his face with the whispered fragments of truth that, deep down, his heart already knew—but Aang refused to let his mind wander down that path. It was too painful, like a bruise throbbing at the slightest touch.

_This will hurt you_, his mind seemed to say. _You don't want to search too deep._

And he didn't. He really didn't. But that didn't stop the nightmares from haunting him even when he was awake.

"Aang?"

It was Katara. He gripped the ship railing, staring out towards the darkened ocean as she came to stand beside him. For a moment neither said anything and then, in silent understanding, she placed her hand on his shoulder. He felt the warmth of her touch sink right through into his skin, filling him with a sense of comfort. Katara always knew how to make him feel better.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

He shook his head. "It was just a nightmare."

"You've been having them a lot lately."

Aang said nothing. He knew it was true.

Katara sighed and let her hand drop back to her side.

"Wait," Aang said, before she could leave. "Can I ask you something?'

She turned to face him and a slight crease formed on her brow. "What?"

"Do you—do you think I did the right thing, back when the Fire Nation was attacking the Northern Water Tribe?"

"What are you talking about?"

He chewed on his bottom lip. "It's just, I keep having these dreams where I'm in the Avatar State, but I'm outside of my body watching myself. I—" he swallowed, looking back towards the ocean "—it scares me, seeing myself like that."

Katara was quiet for a moment. "Do you remember when we were at the Southern Air Temple and you found Monk Gyatso's skeleton?"

Aang closed his eyes. He would never forget that day.

"It must have been so horrible and traumatic for you," she continued. "I saw you get so upset that you weren't even you anymore."

He glanced up at her with a pained look in his grey irises. Katara placed her hand back on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"I'm not saying the Avatar State doesn't have incredible—and helpful—power," she said softly, "but for the people who love you, watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary." She gave him a strained smile. "I am glad you stopped the Fire Nation from invading the city, though. You saved the Northern Water Tribe; that has to count for something."

Aang nodded and looked back towards the ocean. "Thanks for telling me that, Katara. It's given me a lot to think about."

He still didn't know if he had been right to allow himself to merge with the Ocean Spirit to protect the Northern Water Tribe, but he did know one thing: he did not like what he became when he was in the Avatar State, and neither did his friends.

Katara squeezed his shoulder, perhaps sensing his thoughts. "Come on, Aang. We should get some sleep. We'll be heading to the Earth Kingdom base tomorrow."

"Yeah."

He gave one last look at the ocean, then turned and headed back to the cabin. When he fell asleep, the nightmares still haunted him.

**oOo**

Zuko examined the white lotus tile resting on his palm. It had been a week since he had first set out on the raft. In that time, he had simply tried to survive, and when he was not focussed on keeping his raft and body intact, he worked on figuring out the riddle that had been his mysterious helper's final message.

"Follow the path of the ancient ways and you will find what you are seeking," Zuko repeated, having memorised the note long ago. He growled in frustration and stuffed the tile back in his pocket. "I don't understand!"

He didn't know what the ancient ways were; he wasn't even certain if he knew what the note had meant by finding what he was seeking. He had been searching for the Avatar for almost three years, but somehow that didn't fit. All he had to help him was the dagger and a white lotus tile—two things that he associated strongly with his uncle. It was that connection which had him so frustrated now. In his heart, he believed the message was a clue to finding his uncle—the person he was indeed seeking—but Zuko had might as well have been trying to decipher a different language for all the sense he could make of it.

"Why does everything have to be in riddles?" Zuko grumbled, letting his arms rest on his knees as he leaned back against the mast.

If people just spoke plainly, he might already have an idea of where to begin his search. Instead, he was stuck trying to figure out what the ancient ways might be and why his anonymous helper had given him a Pai Sho tile of all things. He also couldn't help but wonder why someone in the Northern Water Tribe had chosen to help him in the first place, let alone give him—or so he hoped—clues as to how he might find his uncle.

Zuko closed his eyes, feeling the sun caress his face. It pained him to admit it, but he knew that the Avatar would have tried to help him break out of prison, yet the note and the careful way the escape route had been planned was much too subtle for that airhead—or for any of the Avatar's friends, for that matter. He did wonder if perhaps the healer, Yagoda, might have had something to do with his escape. Lecherous she might be, but she had been kind to him in her own way, and he had not forgotten that she had been the one holding onto his dagger. Still, he had got the impression that she did not know how to fight, and someone had to have knocked out the guards.

He sighed and stretched his legs out more. Maybe he'd never know who had helped him, but he wished he could at least unravel the stupid message. That was all he really cared about right now—that and surviving, of course.

"I hope I find land soon," Zuko muttered.

He had been lucky enough to have good winds to push him along for most of the week, but he wasn't sure how much longer his supplies would last, even with all of the rationing he had been doing. The stars told him that he was at least heading towards the Earth Kingdom, but he had little choice but to let the current take his raft where it willed. One sail and a paddle could only do so much in terms of helping him to navigate the ocean. It was just fortunate that he could swim and was well and truly used to being tossed around in choppy waters. He could have done without the circling sea vultures, though.

Zuko exhaled and got back to his feet, picking up the paddle as he did so. No sense in sitting around. He had to be quick if he wanted to catch up to his uncle.

_Then I'm coming for you, Avatar, _he thought grimly.

**oOo**

The Earth Kingdom base had not been what Aang was expecting. General Fong had greeted them with high praise and an impressive display of fireworks, but the cheery atmosphere had not lasted. As soon as they had been called into the general's private room, Aang had begun to feel uncomfortable. The general kept talking about the great victory Aang had achieved in the North, oblivious to the airbender's mixed feelings regarding the subject. Then, to the shock of all, he had declared that Aang was ready to face the Fire Lord.

Aang could still remember the distinct jolt of horror he had felt upon hearing those words—the horror he had continued to feel as the general went on to explain that the powers he gained by entering the Avatar State would be more than enough to defeat the Fire Lord. With the Avatar leading at the head of the army as the ultimate weapon, the Earth Kingdom could cut a swath right through to the heart of the Fire Nation. Nothing would be able to stop them. It was a foolproof plan, and the general was not going to take no for an answer.

In vain had Aang tried to explain that he did not know how to get in or out of the Avatar State, let alone control it; in vain had Katara stated that Aang needed to be focussing on learning the elements. The general had listened to all with deaf ears and then, when their protests had fallen silent, he had shown them the infirmary. In his mind, Aang could still see the injured Earth Kingdom soldiers. Some of them had missing limbs while others had been badly burnt. Some had not been moving at all.

"_Those are the lucky ones,"_ General Fong had said._ "They came back."_

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what the general had been trying to do—that was the reason they were still at the base, after all. Because Aang could not quite forget General Fong's parting words:

"_People are _dying_, Aang! You could end it, now! Think about it." _

He sighed and stared out over the balcony, looking down at the group of wounded soldiers. It was easy to walk away when it was just a blustering general telling him that he needed to defeat the Fire Lord; it was not so easy when he was confronted with a courtyard of pain-tinged expressions and disfigured bodies. Avatar Roku had told him that he needed to master the elements before going against Ozai, except Aang only had until summer's end before the comet arrived, and every day the Fire Nation was taking more lives.

"There isn't enough time," Aang muttered, tightening his grip on the balcony so that his knuckles burned white.

He had no guarantee that he would be able to master the elements before the comet arrived, but he did know the full extent of the power he could gain through entering the Avatar State. The only problem was that he didn't know if learning how to enter the Avatar State was the right thing to do either. The nightmares had continued to plague him, and he had by no means forgotten his conversation with the Fire Nation prince.

"_It was cruel and wrong. If that's your method of keeping the balance, Avatar, then I want nothing to do with you."_

Aang hung his head, conscious of a sharp twisting in his gut. No matter what he did, people were going to die. He wished he knew what was right. He wished he had someone to advise him, yet all he felt in that moment was the unbearable weight of General Fong's hand still pressing down on his shoulder.

**oOo**

The storm set in swiftly. Zuko would have cursed the spirits for his bad luck, but in truth he wasn't all that surprised. Three years ago today he had lost everything when his father had banished him. Now he was celebrating the anniversary by struggling for his life on a worn out raft surrounded by heaving waters. In despair, he watched the remains of his supplies get swept overboard and then disappear into the black depths; in despair, he saw the mast break and the cloth sail whip away in the wind. He tried to cling to the paddle for as long as possible, but he was having a difficult time just trying to keep himself on the raft. A wave crashed over him, dragging and sucking him towards the water like a gaping maw. The paddle was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn it!" he cursed, tightening his hold on the wood.

Splinters pierced his hands, but he was too charged with adrenaline to notice the pain. Then another wave pummelled into him and he suddenly found himself choking on a mouthful of salty water as he was forced to release his grip. Though a strong swimmer, Zuko was helpless in that moment. Down and down he went, pushed deeper by the gravity of the waves, while the ocean tugged him in every direction as if trying to tear him apart. Fear seized hold of his chest as he realised he had no idea in which direction he should go to find the surface—and he knew with grim certainty that he needed to get to the surface. The burning in his lungs and the painful urge to vomit told him that he had swallowed too much water, and he was already beginning to feel sluggish and dizzy.

_I'm going to drown._

The thought flashed in his mind, but instead of accepting his defeat he forced himself into motion, praying with all of his heart that he was heading in the right direction. The current still pushed and pulled, but at last he managed to break through the surface, where he coughed and spat out the water that had got into his lungs, even as he took in great gulps of air. A quick scan of his surroundings revealed that his raft was now several metres away. Inwardly he groaned, but he knew he would not be able to survive the storm unless he could hold onto something that floated.

He was just about to start swimming in earnest when a fresh wave smashed into his back, pushing him back under the water. Zuko managed to keep his mouth shut this time, but he was still gasping for air when he finally got back to the surface. To his horror, he realised he was now even further away from the raft.

"_No_!"

The scream ripped free from his throat, angry and bitter, and so terribly afraid. He did not want to die. He had gone through too much to die now. But the ocean was determined to keep him, and no matter how determinedly he tried to reach the raft, his fingers never did find purchase. Water encased his body; it slipped inside his mouth and nostrils to choke his breath; it stung his eyes and turned his vision into a haze of liquid black. He was losing consciousness, but then arms wrapped around his body, pulling him upwards.

"Don't worry, Prince Zuko," a gruff voice said in his ear. "I've got you."

Zuko blinked dazedly and saw a blur of red; then his eyes rolled back into his head and knew only darkness.

**oOo**

Someone was stroking his face. Zuko could feel the soft fingers skimming along his forehead, then brushing down across his unscarred cheek in a caress that just allowed the person's little finger to trace the curve of his jaw. It was a gentle touch—should have been a soothing touch—but his chest tightened and his muscles tensed. Long, sharpened fingernails grazed his skin as the person stroked his face again. He breathed in sharply and opened his eyes. A young girl stared back at him, her dark hair pulled up into a topknot with a red headpiece holding it in place.

"Hello, Brother," she greeted, allowing a smile to form on her lips.

Zuko wrenched his face away from her hand. "Azula. What are you doing here?"

She made a sound of disapproval. "In my country, we exchange a pleasant 'hello' before asking questions." Amber eyes glowed with mockery. "Have you become uncivilized so soon, Zuzu?"

"Don't call me that!" he growled.

Azula's eyes gleamed, as if she was amused by his outburst. Zuko ignored her and tried to sit up on the bed, only to sway as a rush of dizziness washed over him. He placed his hand against the wall to keep himself upright, taking in deep, steadying breaths. Spirits, he felt so weak. He wasn't even sure how he had got out of the storm, but one look around the room told him that he was in some kind of steel cabin, which meant he had to be on a Fire Nation ship.

"How did I get here?" he asked, shooting his sister a narrowed look. "What happened?"

"My guards went fishing," Azula said with a sharp little smile. "They found you half-dead in the ocean. You're lucky I was around. You would have drowned if my helmsman hadn't seen you."

Zuko's eyes narrowed a fraction. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

Azula sighed. "Well, since you're so intent to get to the point. I actually came to find you."

"Me?"

"You and Uncle, but yes. I've come with a message from home. Father's changed his mind. Family is suddenly very important to him. He's heard rumours of plans to overthrow him—treacherous plots. Family are the only ones you can really trust." Her voice softened, as did her expression. "Father regrets your banishment, Zuko. He wants you home."

For a moment Zuko was too stunned to say anything. His emotions were whirling inside of him, too fast for him to even understand what it was exactly that he felt. Hope, fear, relief, uncertainty—they were all there, tangling in a confused mesh of feelings, yet all he could think over and over were those simple words: his father wanted him home. His father wanted him _home_.

"Did you hear me?" Azula demanded. "You should be happy. Excited. Grateful." A smile curved her lips. "I just gave you great news."

Zuko met his sister's gaze. "Father regrets?" he asked in a voice that sounded too small and vulnerable to be his own. "He—he wants me back?"

"Isn't that what I just told you? Really, Zuko, how much sea water did you swallow?"

He shook his head, looking the other way. "I just—it's been three years."

Three years of silence. Three years of wondering if he would ever be able to prove himself worthy of his father's love and respect. He raised a hand to his scar, feeling the rough, uneven flesh. How he had ached to hear those words—to be told that he could finally go home. He had thought it would only happen once he had captured the Avatar, but there were no stipulations this time. No impossible tasks. His father regretted his banishment. His father _cared_. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Azula stood up from the bed. "I can see you need time to take this in. If you need anything, call for one of the guards. I'd recommend a bath and a change of clothes." She eyed his borrowed attire with distaste. "Those Water Tribe rags you're wearing are not fit for the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation."

He watched her turn to leave. "Wait."

She glanced back at him with a questioning look.

"You mentioned Uncle," Zuko said, conscious of the way his heart pounded in his chest. "Do you know where he is?"

Azula's expression hardened. "Uncle Iroh will not be coming home with us."

"You've seen him?"

She nodded. "This morning, in fact. At the Ying Hua bathhouse."

"Then why—"

"It seems that Uncle does not share our feeling for family unity," Azula said coolly, and then she gave another sharp little smile. "But I'm sure he'll come around, with the right persuasion."

A crease formed on Zuko's brow. He couldn't imagine his uncle walking away from a chance to return to the Fire Nation. Not after everything that had happened, and especially not if he knew that Zuko's banishment had been lifted. It didn't make sense, and yet—

"Don't look so troubled, Zuzu," Azula said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm sure that once Uncle realises you're safe in the palace, he will come back home."

"I guess," Zuko said slowly.

Except he still couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Azula smiled at him. "Well, I shall leave you to get some rest. Don't forget to call for the guards if you need anything."

He nodded absently, too tired and too distracted by everything he had heard to pay attention to his sister's parting words. It wasn't until the door had closed behind her that he realised what had felt so wrong about the conversation. Azula had been pleasant—too pleasant.

_Azula always lies._

The thought flickered in his mind, but he banished it immediately. There was no reason for his sister to lie about something like this. No reason at all. He was just being paranoid. He was just tense from being stuck on a raft for almost three weeks and nearly drowning. He should be grateful that she had saved him; he _was_ grateful that she had saved him.

But he still felt uneasy.

Zuko sighed and placed his head in his hands, running his fingers along the short strands of hair that had grown back while he had been stuck in prison and travelling on the raft. He'd have to shave that off eventually, but not right now. His sister had given him much to think about, and he was just too exhausted and on edge to care about something as mundane as his appearance. Though a bath did sound nice. In fact, the thought of getting out of his dirty, salt-encrusted clothes and soaking in a tub of hot water sounded really, really nice.

"I suppose there's no harm in relaxing a little," he mused.

He could worry about why his uncle had chosen not to return with them to the Fire Nation later. For now, he'd just try to make the most of his new accommodations. There were some things that even Zuko could not resist; after three weeks of not being able to wash, a hot bath was definitely one of them.

**oOo**

Aang sat up with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest. Darkness greeted his eyes, but he could hear Sokka snoring from his left, reminding him where he was and that it had been a long time since he had last seen Zuko, let alone fought him on a ship. Slowly, his muscles began to relax. It was just a dream. Only a dream.

But it had seemed so real.

He placed his hands over his face, trying to block out the images. In his mind, however, he could still see the white glow that had illuminated his arrows as he turned to confront the prince—still see the fear that entered those gold irises as he slashed forward to strike. Aang shivered and hugged his knees to his chest. He didn't want to think about what had happened next, because in his dream he hadn't been aiming to hurt Zuko; he had been aiming to kill.

_Just don't think about it_, he told himself. _It was a dream. It didn't mean anything._

But the images would not leave him, and the longer he sat there, the more disturbed he felt. In all of his other nightmares he had been the one to be attacked by his glowing self. This was the first time someone else had taken his place, and it troubled him that his subconscious should have chosen Zuko. Perhaps it was because he had been thinking about the prince earlier that day, or maybe it was because he had felt a twinge of those awful feelings again—the ones that told him that Zuko's life was in danger. Somehow, though, Aang thought it was more than that.

"_I saw the bodies! I saw the ships! No Water Tribe army could have done that, but you—you most definitely could."_

Aang squeezed his eyes shut, hugging his knees closer to his chest. Zuko had been the one who had first made him realise the true significance of what the victory at the North Pole had meant. The prince's words had been harsh and hurtful, but they had opened Aang's eyes to a glimpse of the truth—a truth he now knew that he could no longer deny. The white rage of the Avatar State had filled him with grim determination during the siege of the North—a blinding need to defend and attack—but it had also controlled him into creating a floating graveyard. It had made him kill. There was nothing that could change that, no matter how strongly Aang knew in his heart that he had never intended to take a life.

Now, after reliving those attacks from the point of view of his victims, Aang knew that Zuko had been right. He should have never gone into the Avatar State, no matter how upset he had been. The monks had always told him that those with great power also had a responsibility to control that power, but Aang had allowed the Avatar State to control him. He had been as wild as Admiral Zhao's fireballs, tearing destruction through the Fire Nation navy with careless ease.

"Like a monster," he whispered, echoing the prince's words.

It was a crushing realisation, but what sickened Aang most was that, even after the battle, he had not considered that he had been attacking individual soldiers. He had just seen Fire Nation: a faceless enemy that needed to be stopped. Even Zuko screaming at him about all the men and woman who had died had not really allowed the truth to sink in. It was only after Aang had seen himself kill the prince in his dream that he realised the Fire Nation were more than just nameless figures in red and black armour. Because Zuko was Fire Nation too, and he did have a face: one that was scarred and fierce, but could bleed and bruise just like anyone else's.

Aang buried his face into his knees. There was no saying what he should have done at the North Pole. He was sure there was a better way that he could have gone about things, but it was too late now. The past was the past. All he could do was try to shape the future, and in that he knew he could not help General Fong invade the Fire Nation.

People were dying, but they were dying on both sides. Aang wasn't about to add to that number if he could help it.

**oOo**

The next morning Aang made his way to General Fong's room. He spotted the earthbender standing by the window, looking down into the courtyard where Aang knew the injured soldiers would be gathering to be healed. Something clenched in his stomach, but he ignored the feeling. He had made up his mind.

"General Fong?" Aang said, taking a few steps into the room.

The older man turned and welcomed Aang with a warm smile. "Come in, Aang. Have you thought about our discussion?"

Aang stared at his feet. "I have, and I've realised that Katara is right. At this point, I just need to focus on mastering the four elements."

Green eyes flashed. "I would have thought, being the Avatar, that you would understand the importance of ending this war quickly. Or do you not care that hundreds of people are dying every day?"

"I do care," Aang said softly. "That's why I can't go through with your plan." He raised his head, meeting the earthbender's gaze with grave determination. "I won't be your weapon, General Fong. I will not kill for you or for anyone else. As the Avatar, it's my duty to keep balance in the world; to do that I have to master the four elements and _then_ defeat the Fire Lord. That is my destiny, and that is what I will do."

"You're making a mistake, Avatar."

Aang shook his head. "No. For once, I'm doing the right thing."

General Fong's mouth twisted into what might have been a frown but which looked more like a snarl. He said a lot of things after that—cruel, wounding things that were designed to make Aang feel guilty and as if he was abandoning the Earth Kingdom, even the world, to be slaughtered by the Fire Nation. It was all emotional blackmail, of course, and maybe once Aang would have been moved by the accusations, but in that moment he just felt sad. Sad and tired.

"I'm sorry, General," Aang said, bowing low to him in the fashion of the Air Nomads. "Nothing you say will change my mind."

Without waiting for a response, Aang turned on his heel and left the room. The sound of rock smashing echoed in his ears, but he just quickened his pace, knowing there was nothing he could do. It didn't take him long to find Sokka and Katara, who looked as if they had both just woken up.

"You alright?" Sokka asked, noticing his expression. "You don't look so good."

"We need to leave," Aang responded, already moving to pack his things.

Sokka scratched his chin. "What about that escort we were supposed to be getting to take us to Omashu? Wasn't that crazy general supposed to—"

"That's why we need to leave," Aang interrupted. "I told General Fong that I'm not going to help him invade the Fire Nation. He, uh, wasn't exactly happy about it."

"Right," Sokka said, catching on. "So we can probably forget the escort, then?"

Aang smiled sheepishly. "Pretty much."

"Well, I'm glad we're leaving," Katara said, folding her arms across her chest. "I didn't like that General Fong guy one bit, and I think we're better off without any escort he could have given us."

Momo landed on Aang's shoulder and chirruped loudly. Aang smiled and scratched the lemur behind the ears. "I think Momo agrees with you," he told Katara.

"Wait a minute!" Sokka exclaimed, looking from one to the next with dawning realisation. "Does this mean we're going to miss breakfast?"

Aang blinked. "Um, I guess."

Sokka sighed and clutched at his grumbling belly. "Sorry, stomach. Looks like it's going to be nuts again."

Katara rolled her eyes. "You'll survive, I'm sure."

Aang flashed a smile at the Water Tribe boy. "Come on, Sokka. Just think of the feast Bumi will give us once we get to Omashu!"

That did cheer Sokka up, but as they packed the rest of their belongings and then flew away on Appa, it was with a heavy heart that Aang watched the Earth Kingdom base fade from view. He knew he had made the right choice, but that didn't make living with his decision any easier.

For the sake of the world—even the Fire Nation—he hoped that he would be able to master the elements soon.

**oOo**

Zuko wasn't sure what it was that first triggered him into searching his sister's cabin. After their brief conversation, he had continued to feel uneasy and on edge, like a wind-up toy waiting to be released. He replayed her words over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what was bothering him, but there was nothing troubling about what she had said. No, what bothered him were the things she had _not_ told him.

He had been too overwhelmed with the knowledge that he was returning home to pay attention to it earlier, but now that he thought back, he remembered the way her expression had hardened when he had asked about his uncle. He also remembered her sharp little smiles and gleaming eyes—the discordant notes in her smooth masterpiece. That was the Azula he knew; the sister who would play sweet just before she struck. Except this time there had been no strike.

Zuko had tried to dismiss the matter. He'd told himself that he was just being paranoid and that he needed to stop believing the worst of his sister, who truly had done nothing but help him since their reunion. Only once the thought had entered his head it suddenly became difficult to banish. Little things began to stick out in his mind, like the fact that there was always a guard near him, _watching_ him. Then the hushed murmurs, the sly glances—it was all adding up—and Zuko's instincts had kicked in, whispering that something was not right.

So Zuko had snuck into his sister's cabin, hoping to find some kind of information to ease his growing edginess. A part of him had still believed that he was just imagining things, but then he had found the posters.

Zuko stared at the paper in his hand, feeling the colour drain from his cheeks as he looked down into a hand-drawn image of his own face: a scarred and far too recognisable image, with a bounty listed for his capture on the right. On the lower half of the poster was an equally recognisable drawing of his uncle. Both of them had been listed as traitors. His hands trembled slightly as hurt and rage splintered through his body, but it was anger that won.

"Azula," he growled, clenching the poster tightly in his fist.

Without a word he stormed out of the cabin, pushing past anyone who got in his path as he made his way back to the deck where he had last seen his sister. She was giving some orders to her men, but he simply shoved them aside.

"You lied to me!" he shouted, glaring at her through furious gold eyes.

Azula stared at him calmly. "What are you talking about, Zuzu?"

He thrust the poster in front of her face, letting her see the drawings.

"I see." A faint smile curved her lips. "Well, I guess you found me out."

An inhuman sound of rage escaped his throat and he summoned two fire daggers to his hands, burning through the poster in the process. Suddenly, he lunged for his sister, slashing wildly at her face—anything to wipe that smile off her mouth and ease the gnawing ache of betrayal in his chest. She dodged his blows again and again, not once bothering to retaliate with an attack of her own. It was an insult to his bending and they both knew it. His eyes narrowed and he struck at her with a ferocious slice to her left, hoping to catch her off guard, but she simply grabbed his wrist and spun him around, twisting his arm up hard against his back and pulling him to her chest. Zuko froze as he found himself trapped, his breathing heavy.

"You know, Father blames Uncle for the loss at the North Pole," she hissed into his ear, "and he considers you a miserable failure for not finding the Avatar." Her voice sharpened with cold cruelty. "Why would he want you back home except to lock you up where you can no longer embarrass him?"

Zuko screamed in anger and lashed out at her with his free hand, forcing her to release her hold. He followed quickly with a flaming hook kick to her jaw, which she just managed to avoid. Her lips twisted into an ugly expression and she swiped at his face with her hand, dragging her sharpened fingernails across his skin. He stumbled backwards in surprise, feeling the blood drip down his forehead and stroke his cheek—an inverted echo of the caress she had given him when he had first woken up on her ship. For a moment they just glared at each other, and then the fire daggers were back in his hands and he lunged for her again, determined to make her feel his pain—determined to make her see how she liked it when her family turned on _her_.

"Come on, Brother," Azula taunted, laughing as she slipped away from his attacks with agile ease. "You're going to have to do better than that!"

He responded by bringing both fire daggers around in a ruthless strike to her chest. Azula side-stepped the attack and then kicked him hard in his stomach, sending him sprawling in a heap of bruised limbs to the ground. Smoke curled free of his mouth as he snarled in frustration, and then he was back on his feet and charging for her again, flames trailing from his hands as he got ready to unleash a powerful fire blast. Her lips curved a fraction and then a stream of blue was racing towards him, heading straight for his face. His eyes widened and he managed to avoid the fireball, but Azula had already followed up with a counterattack. An intense wave of heat mixed in with pure elemental force struck him in his stomach, shoving him painfully up against the ship railing. He blinked dazedly and struggled to regain his balance, feeling the burn of humiliation intermingle with the blind fury already boiling through his blood.

Azula stepped into his line of vision, and he saw that same sharp little smile lift the corners of her mouth. She poised the fingers of her right hand like a blade and then moved her arms in a circular motion, lightning crackling around her body in an arc of blue streaks. Zuko's heart gave an odd lurch in his chest and then Azula pointed her fingers directly at him. He watched helplessly as energy surged free in sparks of intense power, moving in a flash of sapphire for his heart.

_No!_

It was a scream in his mind, but no sound escaped his mouth. In desperation he tried to throw himself out of the way, but his limbs were still shaky and sluggish from his sister's last attack. That was when the lightning struck, colliding with his shoulder in an explosion of agony, and sending shockwaves of white-hot energy throughout his body. He cried out from the intensity of the pain, even as he felt an electrified fist close around his heart, squeezing tightly and slowing the life-giving beat right down. Zuko drew in a rattling breath. Dimly, he realised that he was falling—not to the ground, but over the railing and down towards the ocean. Then black dots swarmed his vision and the organ in his chest fell silent.

The last thing he remembered was the feeling of flames swallowing him whole.

**oOo**

Azula stared at the space where her brother had stood with an unreadable expression on her face. One of the guards who had watched the fight hesitantly stepped forward.

"Princess Azula, would you like us to begin a search for Prince Zuko? He can't have got too far after, well—"

The guard trailed off, casting a nervous glance at the princess. Azula's eyes hardened as his unspoken words whispered between them.

"Don't bother," she said coolly, turning to face the man. "Even if my brother managed to survive that lightning attack, he'd be little more than a corpse now."

"As you wish, Princess," the guard responded, bowing.

Azula shifted her gaze back to the expanse of storm-tossed blue and a faint crease formed on her brow. Once, she had seen cuts that bled in rivulets of crimson disappear from her brother's body right before her eyes. She had seen bruises fade and watched him recover from injuries that should have paralysed any other child—even killed. But she knew there could be no miracle recovery this time. Whatever the strangeness of her brother's inner fire, the lightning had struck true. If that didn't stop his heart, the ocean was sure to finish the job.

Her jaw clenched imperceptibly. "Send a message to my father," she ordered the guard.

"What should I tell him?"

Azula met his gaze with cold amber eyes. "Tell him that Prince Zuko is dead."

* * *

Certain sections from this chapter have been based on scenes from the episode 'The Avatar State'. Some of the dialogue has also been paraphrased and directly quoted from this episode.

For those who are interested, I have taken to keeping a 'progress log' for this story on my profile. It's just to let you know how I am coming along with each chapter and I will sometimes give dates for when I next expect to update. I'll also make a note there if something should come up that might delay an update, etc.

**Hello goodbye my spider fly:** I couldn't respond to your review so, again, I will respond here. I get what you're saying, but you have to remember that Zuko has just been through a hell of a lot—underwater caverns, snow fields, three intense battles—and he did all of that with three broken ribs and a lot of other injuries. Add to that the emotional shock of seeing his navy wiped out and I don't think it's that farfetched that two non-bending warriors could catch him off-guard and knock him out before he could retaliate. Zuko is pretty hardcore, but he's not super human.

As for Iroh, he never even saw the warriors. The Dragon of the West most definitely would have kicked those guys' butts and got his nephew out there, but he wasn't on the bridge to do so. It was all a matter of timing, and, unfortunately, Iroh missed his chance. You also have to take into account the fact that even if Zuko was fighting Zhao not far from the Spirit Oasis, who's to say that Iroh would take exactly that path? There are too many variables, and in this case the story did not allow for Zuko and Iroh to meet again.

I hope that clears some things up for you.


	12. A Life in Fragments

I don't usually like to respond to unsigned reviews in my chapters (I know from my own reading that long, conversational a/n notes can be a pain), but I just wanted to say to 'Anonymous' that I am very happy to hear that you liked what I did with Aang in the previous chapter. Given the right nudges, I think Aang can be an incredibly wise and thoughtful kid, but I especially love him because he has so much _heart_ and genuinely does care about people—even those from the Fire Nation. It seemed fitting for him to have that epiphany and choose not to let General Fong help him get into the Avatar State. I'm glad you felt it stayed true to Aang's personality. ^_^

* * *

**A Life in Fragments**

The sun was just beginning to set when Aang decided it was time to call it a day and find a place to camp. They were all hungry and tired, and he was reluctant to push Appa any further with Omashu still so far away. A brief squabble ensued upon landing about who would do what chore, but eventually it was decided that Aang and Momo would collect the firewood, Katara would put up the tent, and Sokka would gather food for their evening meal. Appa, having done his duty, sprawled out on the ground and closed his eyes.

"Get some rest, boy," Aang said, patting the bison's head.

Appa gave a content rumble and rolled onto his back, clearly asking for a belly scratch. Laughing, Aang performed this service and then headed off into the trees with Momo, who darted ahead in a streak of white fur. After everything that had happened, Aang found it comforting to meander through the woods at an unhurried pace, just listening to the rustling leaves and the occasional bird calling to its friends; it was the kind of tranquillity one could only find when at peace with nature, and he had missed that. Of course, the stillness was soon disturbed as Momo discovered a particularly juicy bug and started chirruping excitedly.

"We're looking for firewood, Momo. Not bugs," Aang scolded, though the amusement gleaming in his eyes belied his chiding tone.

Momo held up the half-bitten bug in offering to Aang, as if to say that the airbender could have some too.

"No, thanks," Aang responded, scrunching up his face in distaste. "I think I'll just stick with whatever vegetarian-friendly food Sokka manages to find."

He rubbed his gurgling stomach. Hopefully, it would be more than a collection of nut-shaped rocks.

Momo finished the last of his snack and then scuttled ahead to pick up the smaller pieces of wood littering the forest floor so that they could start the fire; Aang focussed on gathering the larger branches. Between the two of them, it didn't take long to collect a decent stack of firewood—though it was true that the lemur seemed more interested in the bugs he found underneath the fallen bits of timber.

"I think this should be enough," Aang observed, clutching the stack to his chest. "Let's head back."

Momo chirruped in agreement and took off into the air with his own bundle. Aang had only taken a few steps when an intense shock of pain surged through his chest, squeezing at his vital organs and filling him with a deadly coldness. Gasping, he collapsed to his knees and barely noticed as the firewood tumbled free from his slackened hold. Everything felt as if it were twisting and writhing inside of him, making him dizzy and his throat burn with the taste of rising bile; however, it was the numbing emptiness spreading through him that frightened him most. The buried warmth he had come to see as a part of himself was slipping away, like frayed threads unravelling with the slightest tug. He closed his eyes, curling up into himself as if he could somehow keep the warmth locked inside his body. It didn't help.

A concerned chirrup told him that Momo was beside him, and he felt a small paw touch his arm. Aang just breathed in and out, not even caring that dirt was getting into his mouth from where he had pressed his face against the ground. It hurt so much, but the pain was more than physical; it reached deep into his spirit—into his very soul. He clutched his arms tighter around his stomach, feeling the sting of unshed tears burn his eyes.

"Zuko," he managed to choke out in a whisper. "What's happening to you?"

There was no one to give him an answer, but Aang knew in his heart that something had gone wrong. Whatever had happened to the prince, it was bad. Really bad. The strain on their bond had never felt as intense as this before—never so crippling.

Momo squeaked in distress and tugged at Aang's cape, trying to pull the boy back to his feet. When this failed, the lemur took off into the air and flew back towards camp, no doubt to get help. Not that Aang noticed. He was desperately trying to keep those fiery threads from escaping his grasp—desperately trying to stop that invisible hand from reaching any further inside of him to snatch away his link to the prince. Somehow, he knew that Zuko would die if that happened.

_Come on, Zuko! _Aang inwardly pleaded, clutching a hand to his aching heart. _You have to fight this. I don't know what's happened, but you can't just give up. Please! Please, keep fighting!_"

For a moment he almost thought he caught a glimpse of the other boy: a whisper of water, lightning and pain. Then the images faded and Aang was back on the forest floor, curled up on the dirt as his body trembled from the effects of their fragmenting bond. He was still pleading for Zuko not to give up when the agony became too much and he slipped into unconsciousness.

**oOo**

Pain. That was the only thing that existed in that moment. Pain and fire.

Zuko knew that he should be dead. He'd fallen—fallen so very far, even as his body convulsed with the shocks of energy ripping through his limbs and vital organs. For a moment his heartbeat had stopped, but then the flames had burst free from deep inside of him, spreading through his chi paths, and somehow he had continued to breathe. Somehow, his heart had found a new rhythm: one that was fragile and small, but still pulsed with life. Now, with no energy to move, the wounded prince just floated, cradled by the watery hands of the ocean as he struggled to stay conscious—to stay alive.

He didn't know how long it had been since he had lost sight of Azula's ship, but he was just beginning to sink again when his hand made contact with something hard. Instinct made him wrap his fingers around the obstruction, feeling the rough texture of wood—wood that had been doused with wave after wave, yet had still somehow managed to stay roped together.

_My raft. _

The thought was like a sigh of relief in his mind. With an effort, he opened his eyes and blinked past the splashes of orange that painted the sky to look at what was left of his boat. There was a jagged piece of timber sticking up from the middle where the mast had snapped, but otherwise it was mostly intact. Either way, the floating bits of wood would stop him from drowning.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko slowly dragged himself up onto the raft, conscious of each painful motion that it took to get his body out of the water. Black dots swarmed before his vision, almost blinding him with a rush of nausea. He suddenly found himself on all fours and vomiting as the full force of his efforts struck home. It was too much—all of this was too much. Acid choked his throat and burned his oesophagus, but at last the heaving stopped and Zuko collapsed onto his side, not even caring that there was vomit stuck to his cheek or that his face was just inches from the rest of the foul-smelling pool.

_Breathe,_ he told himself. _Just breathe. _

So he did—in and out, in and out, just like when he meditated. Slowly, his shaking limbs began to calm, though his heart continued to flutter in his chest like the broken wings of a sparrowkeet. Too exhausted to do anything more, Zuko rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, feeling the fire rippling through his veins ignite with renewed power. It seemed like hours that he drifted along with the current, helpless and just barely clinging to life. Sometimes, he wished it would end—that the water surrounding him would turn violent as it had the night before and drag him down to oblivion. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with the pain. At least then he would be able to forget.

"_You know, Father blames Uncle for the loss at the North Pole, and he considers you a miserable failure for not finding the Avatar. Why would he want you back home except to lock you up where you can no longer embarrass him?"_

Zuko shied away from the memory, inadvertently reaching for the flames that were spinning tendrils of heat around his consciousness. Somehow, he sensed that Azula and her lies couldn't exist in the inferno—that fear and anguish were just words with no real significance when compared to the golden flickers of his inner fire. Yet the ache he felt because of his sister's betrayal still festered under his skin, like a cyst waiting to burst. Even the physical effect of his injuries was nothing compared to that soul-crushing pain.

_Too much_, a small voice repeated in his mind.

Yes, it was too much. Too much on what had already seemed like too much for him to endure. His spirit and mind felt so battered and bruised, like it was willpower alone that was holding the fraying pieces of his identity together. By the time the raft came to a halt, banking itself on an unfamiliar shore, there was only one clear thought in his mind: he had to get away. He had to survive.

With trembling fingers, Zuko removed the dagger from his boot and sliced through the phoenix plume that marked him as royalty. He watched the strands of black fall into the water, where they glowed with the silver hues of the moon before being carried away with the tide. His hands were still shaking as he sheathed the blade, then set about removing every scrap of clothing from his body that could pinpoint him as Fire Nation. Soon, he was just wearing the grey pants and matching tunic that served as an underlay for most firebending armour, which he thought were muted enough to not cause suspicion. He would have liked to have kept the boots, but together the combination was too obviously Fire Nation. His chest tightened as the significance of what he was doing struck him anew.

_I have to let it go._

Forcing the panicked voices battering against the walls of his mind into silence, he exhaled deeply and summoned forth a ball of fire to his hand. The flame was paler than usual and the effort to maintain the flow of energy seemed to wrench a new hole of pain inside him, but he still managed to burn through the pile of clothes until there was nothing left but ashes and the smell of singed material. Now it was done, but he felt no relief upon realising that the last of his outward ties to his home had been severed. Instead, his hands trembled even more violently and he had to close his eyes as his stomach twisted into knots, making him feel ill.

_Too much_, that voice echoed in his mind.

Suddenly, he was falling, collapsing face first on the ground as his limbs gave out from sheer exhaustion. It had probably not been a good idea to use his bending when he was still so damaged and weak, yet he could feel the fire continuing to burn in a tiny sun at the centre of his being, whispering of healing and comfort. His heart gave another uneven flutter in his chest and he didn't pause to think: he just drove his consciousness deeper into the wall of flames, sensing that it was the only way to keep the fragile beat alive. Down and down he went, feeling the inferno strip away all in its blazing heat until he reached the spark that thrummed with life at the core of his being. He pressed himself close to its warmth, letting it wrap around him in a fiery web until there was no separating the boy from the flames—until he could feel the memories and pain slipping away to become no more than specks of dust on his canvas of thought.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there cradled in his cocoon of fire. Sometimes it felt like days; other times it felt like only seconds had passed. Eventually, though, he realised that he had to keep moving. There were hazy images flickering in his mind: flashes of people and places he knew he should recognise, but it all seemed such a blur. The only thing he knew for certain was the fear urging him forward—the need to put as much distance between himself and whatever it was that he had left behind.

Curling his fingers into the sand, he pushed himself back to his feet and stuffed the dagger into his tunic, along with the Pai Sho tile and water-logged scrap of parchment. His heart was fluttering sickeningly in his chest, and he could still feel the fire simmering under his skin, but somehow he managed to half-stumble, half-crawl his way from the shore towards the nearby forest. It was a slow process, and more than once he fell, gasping and gritting his teeth against the shocks of agony that lingered in his body. A part of him just wanted to give up and surrender to the flames, which even now whispered for him to sink back into their calming warmth, but he knew that he could not stop. The fire might soothe his pain, but it could not protect him forever. It could not hold back the nightmare that haunted his scattered thoughts.

_Keep moving_, he told himself ruthlessly.

Like a blind thing he crawled, no longer able to find the energy to stand. The wound on his shoulder was throbbing in ways he couldn't even comprehend from the added pressure, and he thought he might have fainted at some point, but somehow he managed to keep going. It was a relief when he felt the texture of the ground change to leaf-scattered dirt, telling him that he had at least got away from the shore. However, it was not long before even the sheer force of his will was not enough to keep his limbs in motion. Breathing heavily, he collapsed on his back and stared up at the sky, absently noting the slivers of silver that slipped through the canopy of trees. He didn't know if he would be safe in the forest; all he knew was that he could not move another inch. He had finally reached his limit.

Dazed and in pain, he closed his eyes and prayed with all of his heart that he would wake when the sun touched the heavens. If nothing else could be done, then at least let him wake. At least let him live.

_I refuse to die like this_.

It was his last thought. The flames were already reaching for him again, lulling him into unconsciousness while threads of fire worked their way through his chi paths. And as the darkness closed in on his mind, somewhere out on the ocean a scattering of ash and black hair floated away into the night.

**oOo**

Several hours had passed since Momo had first rushed back to camp, flying in circles above Katara's head and chittering loudly. Even now, she could still remember the fear that had seized her heart when she had followed the lemur into the trees and discovered Aang's crumpled form on the forest floor—a fear that had only increased once it became clear that, whatever it was that was keeping him unconscious, the sickness was beyond her curative abilities. Helpless and afraid, she had called for her brother and together they had carried the airbender back to camp and settled him down on the blankets inside the tent. She had been so scared while she had sat beside Aang, just hoping that he would recover. She had never thought that she would be more worried when he awoke.

"Aang, you can't do this!" Sokka exclaimed, blocking the younger boy's path. "I know you're upset, but just think about what you're trying to do."

"I can't just sit around and do nothing!" Aang shouted, clenching his hands into fists.

"We're already part of the way to Omashu. If you leave now—"

"I could feel him _dying_, Sokka! Do you have any idea what that was like for me? I could feel him dying and there was nothing I could do!" Aang bit down on his bottom lip and his hands trembled slightly. "I don't even know if the bond is still intact. He could be dead and I wouldn't—I wouldn't even—"

Katara stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the airbender. "It's okay, Aang," she whispered, holding him close. "It's okay."

Aang looked up at her with overly bright eyes. "You understand, right?"

She averted her face. "I do understand," she said softly. "I understand that you're scared and worried and want to know that the Blue Spirit is alright." She took in a breath, hesitating a moment. "But I also know that Sokka is right."

Aang broke free of her embrace, shaking his head in denial. "How can you say that?"

"The Earth Kingdom is huge." She gave a helpless shrug. "I'm sorry, Aang, but even if you did sense that the Blue Spirit is near water, there's no saying that you would be able to find him. It could take days—weeks, even. Are you really willing to risk that?"

"But—"

Sokka placed a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "I know it seems harsh, but we just don't have the time to go running around the Earth Kingdom in search of one guy. Maybe the Blue Spirit is hurt, but so are a lot of other people. I think it would be better if you just continued on to Omashu like we planned so you can learn earthbending."

Aang faced the other way, dislodging Sokka's grip. "You don't understand."

"You're wrong," Sokka said quietly. "How do you think Katara and I felt when we were given the chance to meet up with our dad? We hadn't seen him in two years, Aang. _Two years_. All that time we never knew if he was alive or well; we just had to hope and wait. Do you think it was easy for us to follow you to the North Pole instead?"

Aang lowered his head, still keeping his back to them.

"Think about it," Sokka advised.

He cast a frowning glance at Katara and then stalked back inside the tent, clearly having said his piece. Katara watched her brother leave, torn between wanting to follow to make sure he was okay or to stay and comfort Aang. Sokka had never spoken of that time they had almost gone with Bato to meet up with their dad; it had been his decision to rejoin Aang, and she had agreed because she had known it was the right thing to do. Only now did she realise how hard that choice must have been for her brother to make. Sokka had always been good at putting on a cheerful front.

Her gaze shifted back to Aang, who stood with his shoulders slumped and his face downcast. She closed her eyes, thinking that she would speak to her brother later. Right now, Aang was the one who needed her most. Wordlessly, she closed the distance between them and slipped her hand in his.

"It'll be okay, Aang," she said gently. "I'm sure the Blue Spirit is alive. You said yourself that he's a tough guy."

Aang continued to stare at the ground. "I don't want to abandon him."

"I know."

They were both silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry you never got to see your father," Aang said in a small voice. "I didn't think—I mean, I guess I just—"

"It's okay. It's not your fault Dad left to fight in the war."

"I know, but—"

"Don't worry about it, Aang. Yes, it would have been nice to see our dad, but Sokka and I both knew that we couldn't just leave you." She smiled and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "You're our family too, remember?"

His mouth twitched into an answering smile, if somewhat strained.

Katara looked up at the moon, seeing beyond the silver to the ships that had carried her father away. "Besides, I know we'll see our dad again." Her gaze shifted to the boy leaning against her. "Just like I know you'll meet up with the Blue Spirit."

He glanced up at her with hopeful grey eyes. "Do you really think so?"

She nodded. "Can't you feel it?"

Aang's shoulders slumped. "I already told you that I can't feel the bond anymore. I only get a sense of our connection when his life is in danger, but I passed out, so—"

"I'm not talking about spiritual connections," Katara interrupted, and then she placed his hand against his chest, letting him feel the steady beat of his heart. "I mean in here. Can't you feel that he's alive?"

Aang was quiet for a moment. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I think I can."

The smile returned to her lips. "Then you don't have to worry."

He tightened his grip on her hand. "Thanks, Katara."

She nodded and then gently disengaged herself from him. "I'm going to go check on Sokka. You should probably eat something while you can. There's some fruit and nuts left for you in Appa's saddle."

Aang's stomach gave a loud gurgle. "You know what, some food sounds really good right now."

"Then go eat!" she ordered, laughing as she shooed him along with her hands.

Aang flashed her a grin and then darted over to the saddle, which Momo and Appa had been resting beside. Katara stayed just long enough to hear Aang telling the lemur off for stealing his portion of the nuts before she turned and entered the tent. Her eyes immediately found her brother, who was seated on the floor with a knife and a small piece of wood in his hands. The shavings scattered around him told her that he had been carving.

"Hey," he said in a flat voice.

She sat down opposite him. "What are you carving?"

"Dad's boat." He held up the lumpy piece of wood for her to see.

Katara bit her lip to stop from smiling. It looked more like a lopsided fish than a boat, but she wasn't going to say that.

Sokka continued chipping away at the piece of wood. "Is Aang still planning on going after the Blue Spirit?"

"No. I think he's realised it wouldn't be helping anyone if he did that."

"Good."

"What about you?" Katara asked, watching her brother closely. "Are you okay?"

He sighed and placed the knife and crudely carved boat down on the blanket beside him. "I miss Dad," he admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I don't regret coming with Aang, but sometimes—sometimes I wish we still could have gone to see Dad, if only once. You know what I mean?"

Katara did know. That was why she pulled her brother into a tight embrace and buried her face into his shoulder, seeking just as much comfort as she was trying to give.

"I miss him too," she whispered.

His arms came around her, completing the hug, and for a moment they just held each other. Then Sokka broke away, looking awkward and rubbing the base of his neck. Katara noticed that his eyes were suspiciously damp.

"Well, uh, I guess we should probably make sure we have enough supplies for tomorrow," he said, getting to his feet. "We've still got a while to go before we reach Omashu, and there's no saying what kind of food we'll be able to find between now and then."

Katara's mouth twitched into a smile. "I'm sure it will be fine, Sokka."

"It's still better to be safe than sorry, and you know how much Momo eats. We could be starving before we know it!"

"Momo? What about you? With the way you stuff your face during every meal, you'd think that you were a flying bison like Appa and had five stomachs to fill."

Sokka straightened to his full height. "I am a warrior. Warriors need their food to keep up their strength."

Her smile widened a fraction. "Ah, of course. I must have forgotten."

Sokka gave her a narrowed look, as if to say that he was not impressed with her teasing. His sister was not repentant and merely recommended that he make sure to pack enough food to fill his five stomachs.

"Yeah, yeah," Sokka said, waving his hand dismissively. "You mock me now, but when we next meet the Angry Jerk, you'll be grateful for my warrior strength."

Some of the amusement died in Katara's eyes. "I almost forgot," she said, more to herself.

"Mm?'

"Zuko," Katara clarified. "It's been three weeks since we last saw him. I just—I guess I just forgot about him. There's been so much else going on."

"Don't let Aang hear you say that. He frets about Zuko just as much as he frets about the Blue Spirit. You'd think that he and the prince were best buddies with the way Aang was carrying on when the Northern Water Tribe wouldn't let him into the prison to see the jerk." Sokka spun his finger around in the air beside his head. "Air Nomads: crazy, I tell you."

Katara gripped the blanket she was sitting on, making her knuckles burn white. "What did you say?"

"I said that Aang is crazy."

"No, about the Blue Spirit."

Sokka blinked. "Just that Aang frets about Zuko just as much as he frets about the Blue Spirit. Why?"

Katara bit her lip, thinking hard. She had suddenly remembered the night the prince had been dragged into the meeting hall. Aang had seemed so distressed—more so than usual when seeing someone get hurt—and then Iluq had kicked the prince in the ribs and she had thought for a moment that her friend was about to go into the Avatar State; he had looked so angry. Instead, Aang had dashed to Zuko's side. He had cried and pleaded, because somehow he had _known_.

"_Katara, please. Please, help him. He's dying!"_

The colour drained from her cheeks. It couldn't be. There was just no way.

"Katara?" Sokka prompted, looking at her in concern.

She stared at her brother. "Aang said that his bond with the Blue Spirit lets him know when the other is in mortal danger, right?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

Her stomach twisted in unease, but then another thought occurred to her and she shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "Just thinking, that's all."

Because of course the Blue Spirit couldn't be Prince Zuko. Master Jeong Jeong had told her that only waterbenders could heal, which meant that the Blue Spirit also had to be a waterbender. Since she had seen for herself that Prince Zuko was quite capable of shooting fireballs from his hands, there simply was no way that he could have been the one who had healed Aang. Besides, the Blue Spirit had helped Aang escape from the Fire Nation; Zuko spent his whole time trying to capture the airbender to take him _back_ to the Fire Nation. It was absurd to even consider that they could be the same person.

Still, she did wonder what had happened to Zuko. They had been told that he had escaped from the Northern Water Tribe, but then it was as if he had just vanished. Katara had to admit, it was kind of strange not having him appear every few days with a new plan to capture Aang. Not that she was missing his presence too much. They had enough on their plate without having to worry about running away from Prince Zuko as well.

But it did make her wonder.

**oOo**

Something was prodding at his side.

"Wake up," a female voice said. "Hey, come on now. I've brought you some soup."

Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Go away," he groaned, rolling out of her reach.

A gasp. "You spoke! And here I was beginning to think you were mute."

He sat up on the bed and glowered at the girl standing beside him. She flashed him a smile and then held out the bowl of broth. Clearly, she was not intimidated by his glare, or maybe she was just used to it. He didn't know. Her toothy grin and big brown eyes seemed familiar, and he was almost certain that she had given him food before, only—only he couldn't seem to recall meeting this girl, let alone her name. For some reason this frightened him.

Chest tightening with panic, he looked around the small room to try to find something he recognised so that he could reorient himself. The bedroom was sparsely decorated and the furniture was of poor quality. He also noticed that most of the decor seemed to be in greens and browns. None of it was familiar to him.

"Hey," the girl said, noting the way the colour drained from his cheeks. "You okay? You're looking a bit pale."

"Where am I?" He looked at her with wide, anxious eyes. "And who are you?"

She laughed. "My name is Fei. And you're in my house, of course. Where else would you be?"

His chest tightened even further, making it difficult for him to breathe. He didn't remember coming to her house. Why couldn't he remember?

_Think_, he told himself.

A sharp stab of pain lanced through his mind and he clutched at his head with a gasp, quickly losing hold of the images that he had been trying to untangle. Spirits, that hurt.

Fei placed the bowl of soup down on the bedside table. "What's wrong? Should I get my mum?"

A frown creased his brow. "Your mum?"

"She's the town healer. She's been taking care of you for the past two days. Don't you remember?"

He swallowed. No, he did not remember.

"Hey! I just realised that you can tell me your name now!" Fei gave him another of her toothy grins. "I hope that you don't mind, but I've been calling you Lee. We weren't sure if you could talk, you see, and Gran seemed to think that you weren't all there in the head because you didn't respond to anything we said and wouldn't eat unless we fed you, so—" A blush suddenly stained her cheeks. "I'm sorry. That was pretty insensitive of me."

He just squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the violent stabbing in his mind. Every word Fei spoke was only making the pain worse. True, some of the blanks were beginning to fill in now. He could indeed remember being fed soup by the chatty girl, as well as an older woman fussing over his wounds, but there were still so many things that didn't add up, like how he had got to this village in the first place. He touched a hand to his shoulder, feeling the bandage that covered—well, he didn't know what it covered, just that it hurt. And that was the problem. He didn't _know_. It was as if someone had entered his mind and stolen all of the important details, leaving him with just a fragment of his memories.

Fei peered at him with hopeful eyes. "So, are you going to tell me your name?"

"I—" He swallowed again. "I don't actually know..."

He trailed off, dizzy with the realisation. What kind of person couldn't even recall his own name?

Fei must have noticed how faint he was feeling, because she was suddenly gripping him by the arms. "Easy there," she said, steadying him with her hands. "I guess you were more injured than we realised. Maybe you hit your head?"

He shrugged. Maybe.

She pursed her lips. "I'll get Mum to have a look at you. Maybe she'll be able to figure out what's wrong. In the mean time, I guess I'll just stick with calling you Lee." A laugh shook her frame. "Wouldn't it be funny if that really was your name?"

"Yeah," he said flatly. "Hilarious."

A smile twinkled in her eyes. "Don't worry, Lee. We'll get your memory back in no time." She paused and rubbed her chin in thought. "Now that I think about it, I do have something that might help."

He watched as she opened the drawer to the dresser and then pulled out a sheathed dagger, something that might have been a Pai Sho tile, and a scraggly piece of parchment.

"What are those?" he asked.

"We found them hidden in your tunic when the old traveller first brought you to us." She placed them on the bed. "Maybe they'll help you remember something."

Lee, as he was resigning himself to being called, picked up the wooden counter first and examined both of its sides. It just looked like an ordinary white lotus tile to him; he dismissed it with disgust. Next was the parchment, which he was excited to see had something written on it. The characters had blurred together and were slightly faded, but he was still able to make out the words.

"Follow the path of the ancient ways and you will find what you are seeking," he read aloud. "If you are wise, you will not return to this place again."

"Do you know what it means?" Fei asked, looking at him curiously.

He shook his head, trying to hold back the frustrated scream that was clawing at his throat. Fei looked disappointed, but she brightened a second later.

"Well, what about the dagger?" she suggested, pushing the knife towards him. "Maybe that will strike a chord."

Lee sighed and closed his fingers around the hilt. Immediately, a sense of recognition swept through him. He had held this knife before.

"What?" Fei exclaimed, catching sight of his expression. "What is it?"

"I know this dagger," he said in a hoarse voice. "This—this was mine."

Trembling slightly, he pulled the blade free of the sheath and saw the words etched onto the metal. On one side it said that the dagger had been made in the Earth Kingdom, but it was the other inscription that interested him.

"Never give up without a fight," he whispered, closing his eyes.

The words were so familiar, as if he had said them over and over to himself until they had become ingrained into his mind. Somehow, he knew that this dagger had been important to him; that he must have stared at it for hours to even memorise the engraving. What he didn't understand was why. What had made this dagger so special? He tried to sort through his fragmented memories, pushing past the blanks to connect the pieces. For a moment he thought he almost had something, too: a whisper of a man with grey hair and warm reddish-brown eyes, but then another stab of pain lanced through his mind and the image was gone. Still, the flash of insight had been enough to help him solve one mystery.

"A gift," he murmured, tightening his fingers on the hilt. "It was a gift."

"What?"

Lee opened his eyes and saw Fei wrinkling her brow at him. "The dagger," he explained. "It was a gift from someone close to me."

She clapped her hands together. "You remembered something!"

He looked back at the knife he was holding. Yes, he had remembered something, and like the ripples spreading from a single pebble, he was beginning to catch flashes of other things too. A streak of lightning. A storm-tossed ocean. Fire. Betrayal. Pain. The images were terrifying and confusing, but they were also coming too fast, slicing through his tender mind like a hundred knives. He couldn't handle the onslaught, and soon there were black dots swarming before his eyes.

"Lee!"

Hands gripped his arms. Only then did he realise that he was shaking. He went still almost instantly and then stared at Fei, his face chalk-white.

"I don't think you should be trying to force your memories right now," she said, looking rather pale herself.

"Yeah," Lee agreed in a faint voice. "Probably not a good idea."

His head was still throbbing from the rush of images.

"I'm going to go get my mum, okay?"

He nodded.

Fei gestured to the bowl of broth. "Try to eat some soup. It might make you feel better."

Without waiting for his response, she stood up from the bed and then left the room. Lee sighed and ran a trembling hand over his face. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew that he didn't like it. The scariest part, however, was that he wasn't certain if he even _wanted_ to remember what had happened to him.

His fingertips brushed against the scarred flesh that skewed the left side of his face. "Fire," he whispered.

That was all his past had seemed to be: fire and pain. Why would he want to remember that?

"_Because that's who you are_,_"_ a woman's voice spoke in his mind. _"Someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard."_

Lee squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know why hearing that voice made him want to cry. Somehow, that was the most heartbreaking realisation of all.

**oOo**

A day had passed since Lee had first come to his senses—or so Qiao, Fei's grandmother, had liked to call his return to cognitive awareness. Before that it seemed that he had done nothing but stare blankly unless someone forced him to move. It was no wonder that they had all thought him mute; he hadn't spoken once.

Lee didn't like to think about those days. It was shameful to consider how much of a wreck he had been, and he didn't like the fact that there were so many holes in his memories. He could now remember the old man who had brought him to the village, but he couldn't remember where the old man had found him or any of the time that they had travelled together. He knew that he had been injured on his right shoulder, but he didn't remember how or why. Then there were the other memories—the ones that made his head hurt with just the slightest touch. Fei's mother said that he had mostly likely gone into shock; that whatever had happened to him had been so painful that his mind must have blocked it out, like a self-defence mechanism. That wasn't exactly reassuring to Lee, who was still trying to piece together his fragmented past. It didn't help that the only facts he had managed to ascertain for certain was that he had been running from something and that it was probably a good thing that no one knew his real name.

Fei tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Lee. Care to share your thoughts? You're being awfully quiet."

Lee was about to respond when he spotted a blue mask nestled on the back shelf of one of the trader's stalls. He froze, feeling a jolt of recognition surge through him. Images flashed through his mind: a figure in black leaping over rooftops; a mask glinting from within the shadows; and then the steel dance of dual dao swords slicing through a ring of enemies.

"Lee?"

He shook his head, snapping out of the memories. "How much for that blue mask?" he asked the trader.

"Two copper pieces."

Lee felt within the pockets of his borrowed clothes and pulled out the copper pieces Qiao had given him for chopping the firewood. Money and mask was exchanged, and then Lee and Fei continued on down the market street.

"Why'd you get that mask?" she asked curiously.

"It just felt right," he said with a shrug.

She pursed her lips. "If you say so."

Lee chose to ignore that remark. He knew that Fei found him a bit odd at times. He also didn't care. To him, she was just as odd—not to mention talked far too much. Still, her family had taken him in when he had been injured and could barely string two words together; he had to be grateful for that.

They had just finished collecting the groceries and were heading back to her house when they saw the soldiers coming from the opposite direction. Lee didn't pay much attention to them at first, but his head pulsed in a whisper of memory when he saw one of the soldiers stop and set fire to the closest market stall. The rest of the group just laughed.

"Oh, no," Fei breathed, stopping in her tracks. "Poor Cai. He loves his cabbages so much, too."

A crease formed on Lee's brow. "Why isn't anyone doing anything to help? They're all just standing there watching."

"What can we do?" Fei said, giving him a helpless look. "There aren't any benders left in this town, and the Fire Nation doesn't exactly tolerate disobedience. Look at what they did to Cai's cabbages, and that was just because he didn't have enough money to pay their stupid taxes."

Lee's head throbbed. This wasn't right. None of this was right.

"Come on," she said, tugging at his arm. "We'd better go. They'll start harassing us soon."

But Lee wasn't listening. He had just spotted a pair of dual dao swords hanging on display on the wall of the blacksmith's workshop. Without a word, he shoved the pot of vegetables he had been holding at Fei and then slipped the mask over his face.

"Lee, what are you—"

Her voice faded as he ran, moving with an instinctive agility that had him half-running along the side of the wall as he snatched the blades from the display and then headed for the group of firebenders. Dimly, he could hear the blacksmith yelling at him, but he ignored that too. His heart was pounding with adrenaline and for once everything made sense. For once, he didn't feel like he was wearing someone else's skin.

More shouts followed him, attracting the attention of the firebenders. They spotted him running and moved into formation, even while the cabbage merchant continued to bemoan the fate of his prized vegetables. It was four against one, but Lee wasn't afraid. He was calm—almost happy. This was what he was used to. This was natural. So he didn't think to question why his mind told him to duck; he just did it, allowing him to slide right under the stream of fire that had been blasted his way. It was a pleasure to see the stunned expression on the firebenders' faces, but he didn't pause to savour the moment. Instead, he lunged forward in a flurry of steel, knocking down one of the soldiers with a sharp thrust to the side and then he swung around to deflect an oncoming fireball with the flat of his blades.

The firebender closest to him let out an angry growl and then charged forward. In a display of rare grace, Lee dropped to one knee and brought the hilts of his blades up into the man's chin, knocking him clean off his feet. Without pausing a second, Lee closed the distance between himself and the remaining firebenders, drawing them in like a vortex with his swords even as he deflected and dodged their blows. It was as if he could sense their every move; as if every shift of their feet and every slight adjustment to their arms allowed him to know what firebending kata they would use next. It wasn't long before he had incapacitated the opponent on his left, though he was careful not to aim to kill.

As the body dropped to the ground to join the rest of the fallen soldiers, Lee readied his swords in an offensive stance, already preparing for the next attack.

"W-who are you?" the firebender stammered, taking a step backwards.

Lee's mouth curved into a smile behind his mask. "You can call me the Blue Spirit."


	13. Decisions and Rumours

**Decisions and Rumours**

No one moved. Lee could feel the other people in the market watching him—feel their stunned gazes crawling all over his skin—but the adrenaline was still coursing through his veins and he couldn't bring himself to care what they thought in that moment. There were four unconscious firebenders at his feet and it was he who had brought them down; he who had dodged and deflected their attacks like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it had been. Because he knew that he had done this before.

He stared at the swords in his hands, feeling a sense of kinship with the twin blades. Yes, this was right. This was _him_. Even now, he could still hear the song of steel ringing in his ears, whispering of past battles and the deadly dance he had performed over and over with nothing but two swords and the shadows to protect him.

_I am the Blue Spirit._

Lee could have laughed with relief. It was as if a piece of the puzzle had at last fallen into place and now he could see the beginnings of the final image. He finally had something to hold on to; he had an identity that was concrete and, even better, it was all his. True, the fact that he had been a masked warrior hiding behind an alias did unsettle him for the implications that went with needing such secrecy, but it was _something_. He was no longer Lee the unknown; he was Lee the Blue Spirit.

Footsteps sounded from behind him. He whirled around and brought his swords up to attack, only to pause when he saw Fei staring at him with wide brown eyes. What little colour had been left in her cheeks drained away, and she swallowed as her gaze flickered from him to the blood-stained metal pressing against her neck. Slowly, he lowered the blades from her throat.

"Lee?"

Her voice was small. Nervous.

Wordlessly, he brought the dao swords together to form one weapon and then walked past her, knowing that she would follow if she still wanted anything to do with him; it was obvious that he had shaken her. The townspeople who had been standing in the market square hurried to move out of his way, but he could hear their murmurs echoing around him like a swarm of buzzard-wasps. So much for good intentions. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the sounds of their curiosity and distrust and stopped in front of the blacksmith's workshop. The smithy paled behind the mass of dark hair that obscured most of his face and his eyes widened a fraction.

"Sorry for the blood," Lee said flatly, placing the dual blades on the counter.

He turned to leave, not wanting to linger in the market with so many people scrutinising him. The smell of fear—however awed—was pungent in his nostrils, and he knew that wariness wasn't being directed towards the incapacitated firebenders. Besides, the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that someone would figure out he was the same boy who had been walking with Fei; he sensed that nothing good could come from that. It was best just to go.

"Wait!"

Lee paused and glanced back to look at the blacksmith through the slits of his mask, his head tilted slightly in question. Some of the ruddiness had returned to the burly man's face and his mouth was set with determination. The blacksmith grabbed the scabbard that had been hanging on the display wall and then pushed it, along with the broadswords, towards Lee.

"Keep them," the smithy said. "I believe you will put these blades to better use than any customer who could afford to purchase them from my shop, sword master."

Surprised, Lee bowed in thanks and accepted the swords, which he cleaned, sheathed and then slung over his shoulder. He could not reject such a gift—not when he knew how much he needed the weapons. He turned to find Fei hovering at his elbow, looking pale but resolved.

"Lee," she said again, squaring her shoulders in a way that told him he was about to be bombarded with a lot of questions.

"Not here," he hissed, grabbing her by the arm and leading her away from the group of listening traders and shoppers.

She made a squeak of alarm and tried to slip free of his grip. Lee stopped and glared down at her through the slits of his mask. He pulled her closer so that no one else would be able to hear his words.

"Look, do you want your answers or not?" he growled in her ear.

"Yes, but—"

"Then meet me back at your house. We'll talk then."

She looked up at him with confused eyes. "Why can't we just walk back together?"

"Because anyone who had cared to pay attention would remember that you had come to the market with a boy and will easily be able to put the two together if they see me leaving with you." He cast a wary glance around the marketplace. "Just talking to you now is putting us both at risk. Damn it. I should have thought of this sooner."

He froze as he caught sight of the trader who had sold him the mask. For a moment they just stared at each other, and Lee felt his stomach twist with unease. The trader had seen his face—had seen him buy the mask. Instead of saying anything, however, the old man just nodded his head in acknowledgement, as if to say that he would keep the secret. Lee would have liked to have got more concrete proof of the trader's silence, but there wasn't time for that now. There were too many people, too many ears listening. He had to get out of here—not just for his own protection, but for every person who knew what he looked like under the mask. The old fear was returning, reminding him that he had been found half-dead and stranded in this town for a reason.

Fei gripped his wrist. "Lee, just tell me—"

"At the house," he said firmly.

He released her on the words and then sprinted in the opposite direction, purposely pushing through the crowd to draw their attention away from Fei. The gasps and shouts told him that his plan was working, but he didn't let the noise distract him. Instead, he increased his speed and jumped onto the wooden crate that had been resting near the tavern, using the momentum to propel his body upwards. His fingers closed around the tiles, and he used the force behind the motion to flip himself up and over the wall with one hand, where he landed in a half-crouch on top of the tavern roof. His blood pumped through his veins, quickening his heart with the rush of adrenaline, but his mind was calm as he shot back to his feet and then made a running leap for the neighbouring building.

_Don't let anyone follow_, his mind chanted. _The Blue Spirit comes like a shadow and will leave like a shadow. He always makes a clean escape._

Lee's jaw clenched as he made the next jump, letting instinct take over to guide his feet. Dimly, he could still hear the shouts and exclamations of the townspeople reverberating around him, but they were nothing to him in that moment. He was alive with the pounding of his heart and the familiar exhilaration that surged through him with every gravity-defying leap. No one could catch him up here. He was as swift and silent as the shadows. He was the Blue Spirit.

But he was also a boy with a scar on his face, and it was that which had him increasing his speed, determined to make the market goers believe that he had left the town for good. Because someone had caught him once; the knowledge pulsed in every painful throb of his mind, hissing of danger and death. Someone had hurt him—could even now be hunting him. He would not, _could not_, let Fei and her family get caught up in that too.

He had to warn them. He had to run.

**oOo**

The sun was setting when Lee arrived back at the house, tired but otherwise unharmed. After leaving the town and bundling the mask and swords in his outer-robe to hide the identity of his alter-ego, it had been easy enough for him to circuit back around to meet up with Fei at her home, though it had taken much longer. Of course, he knew that his ruse was not foolproof, but it would at least buy him some time. He paused when he spotted the girl waiting for him on the doorstep.

"You came back!" Fei exclaimed, getting to her feet and taking an impulsive step towards him.

Lee raised his good eyebrow. "You thought I wouldn't?"

She had the grace to blush. "I don't know. After everything that happened, I guess I just—" The colour darkened on her cheeks and she lowered her gaze. "Well, I guess I just don't really know what to think of you anymore."

His jaw tightened. "Right," he said with a hint of bitterness. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not the weak little nobody you thought I was."

"No!" She gripped his arm, stopping him from walking away. "That's not what I meant. I just—you just surprised me, that's all." A smile curved her lips. "I spent two days feeding you soup because you could barely lift your own spoon; I wasn't exactly expecting you to turn out to be some master swordsman who could take down four firebenders by himself."

Some of the anger faded from his eyes. "It was a mistake to attack those soldiers," he muttered, averting his face. "I've just made things worse for everyone."

"Why would you say that? Sure, it was scary to watch, but what you did was amazing!"

"No, it was reckless and stupid." He placed the bundle on the ground and then sat down on the step, placing his head in his hands. "I don't know who I am, Fei. I don't know what I've been running from or how I got injured; that should have been enough to make me cautious, but seeing those men burn down that stall just felt so wrong. I—I couldn't just stand there and watch it happen."

"So, what's the problem?"

He lifted his hands away to meet her gaze. "You asked me earlier why I bought that mask."

She nodded.

"It's because I used to wear one just like that. I was the Blue Spirit."

"Who?"

"The Blue Spirit," he repeated. "It's the name of the character who wore the mask in the theatre shows. I must have taken on the alias to protect my real identity, but don't you see? I just blew my cover in the worst way possible. The trader who sold me the mask knows what I look like—maybe there are some other people in the market who will be able to figure out the connection as well, and then there's you and your family."

She clenched her hands into fists. "Hey, my family and I are not blabbermouths! Just what are you accusing us of?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything! I'm trying to tell you that you're in danger now because of me!"

Fei's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

Lee sighed and ran a hand through the short bristles of hair that covered his head. "Think about it, Fei. I took down four firebenders. You can't tell me they were the only ones occupying the town. More will come, and they will want to know who I am. All it would take is for one person to give a hint—just a hint—that the Blue Spirit is the same boy who's been staying with your family, and then the Fire Nation soldiers will come here to investigate. You and I both know what that would mean."

Her cheeks paled, but she held her head high. "Well, then you can just drive them away again with your swords," she said staunchly.

Lee shook his head. "I can't stay here. It will only make things worse. At least if I'm gone they can't punish you for harbouring the Blue Spirit if the truth gets out."

Brown locked with gold. "You're just going to leave?" she asked in a small voice. "Just like that?"

"I have to." He stared at the bundle where the mask and swords lay hidden. "I'll admit, maybe at first I wasn't sure if I wanted to remember my past, but now I know I have to find out the truth. I have to know how I got like this."

She sat down next to him and clasped his forearm, looking at him earnestly. "But, Lee, don't you think it would be more dangerous to leave when your memory still hasn't returned? What if you run into the people who hurt you and you don't even know it?"

He shifted away from her touch. "That's why I have to go. Try to understand, I don't know if I was running because I'm the Blue Spirit and had been injured or if there is something about my real identity that somehow put me in danger. If I stay here, I might never know what really happened, but if I leave I have a chance of discovering the truth."

"But—"

"I don't want to live my life in fear, Fei. I'd rather die trying to regain my memories than spend every day wondering if someone is going to recognise me, yet not even knowing why I should be afraid, let alone if it's the mask or the face underneath that should be my main concern."

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "I can see now why you held onto that dagger."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You really don't give up without a fight, do you?"

An image flickered in his mind of a woman with amber eyes and long, dark hair. Suddenly, he could hear the words—her words—echoing in his mind once again:

"_Because that's who you are. Someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard."_

Lee closed his eyes, conscious of the way his heart clenched with a pain he did not understand. "No," he said softly. "I don't think I do."

They were both silent for a moment. Fei tucked her legs up against her chest and rested her chin on her knees, staring out into the distance. He couldn't help but note that she looked unhappy.

"So, I guess you'll be leaving soon then, huh?" she observed, still not looking at him.

"It's better this way," he affirmed. "The longer I stay here, the more dangerous it will be for everyone."

"Where will you go?"

Lee thought for a moment. "I'm going to try to find what I was looking for."

"Huh?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scrap of parchment. "This isn't my handwriting; I know because I checked. Someone must have written this message for me, which means that I was searching for something before I lost my memories. Maybe if I follow the path of the ancient ways like the note says, I'll be able to discover something or someone to help me."

"You know what it means, then?"

He shook his head. "No, but that doesn't mean I can't try. There has to be information about the path of the ancient ways somewhere, and at least it would be a start."

She exhaled in a loud puff of breath and stood up. "Come on, then."

He looked at her questioningly.

Fei's toothy grin came into play. "You didn't think you'd be able to leave without saying goodbye to Gran and Mum, did you? Besides, they might have some advice as to where you can go next."

A crease formed on Lee's brow. "You think so?"

"I don't know, but there's only one way to find out."

Lee nodded in agreement and gathered up the bundle containing his Blue Spirit disguise, then followed her inside the house to where Fei's mother and Qiao were preparing some kind of herbal concoction. It didn't take long for the teens to explain the situation, and while both women seemed stunned to discover that their guest had managed to defeat four firebenders with just a pair of dao swords, Lee was relieved to note that there was no fear in their eyes. He would never admit it aloud, but it had bothered him how wary most of the townspeople had been of him after the fight. He had only been trying to help, but instead they had thrown it back in his face and acted like he was going to attack them next. It was nice to know that Fei's family still trusted him.

"So, you're planning on leaving us, are you, boy?" Qiao asked, looking at him through shrewd brown eyes.

Lee nodded. "I think it's for the best."

"Well, I always knew you were different, but I never expected you'd turn out to be some kind of masked vigilante."

"To be fair," Fei's mother pointed out, "I don't think he did either."

Lee rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Anyway, I wanted—"

"We wanted to know if you had any idea of where he could begin his search," Fei interrupted. "He thinks if he learns more about the path of the ancient ways that he might be able to find something to help him regain his memories."

Lee threw a glare at the girl. "I was just about to say that."

Qiao tapped a gnarled finger to her chin. "Well, I don't know about any ancient ways, but it couldn't hurt to try your luck at Omashu. The city is not far from here, and I've heard they have a library filled with scrolls about the Earth Kingdom and its history. Either way, Omashu is large and sees many travellers come and go. Even if you don't find the information you need, there is still a chance that you might run into someone who will be able to help you regain your memories."

"I guess it's worth a shot," Lee agreed. "I have to begin somewhere, and Omashu is as good as any other place."

"You just be careful while you're out there searching," Fei's mother said in a grim voice. "The Fire Nation is not going to forget what you've done, and you admitted yourself that you're uncertain as to whether it's this Blue Spirit alias of yours that originally put you in danger or if it was something about your real identity. That's a lot of risks you're taking, Lee."

He lowered his gaze to the floor, knowing this to be true. He also knew, however, that he had no choice.

Qiao placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you want my advice, I suggest you keep that mask on while you're travelling. Better to have people chasing a shadow than to track your real self, especially with that scar of yours."

Lee touched a hand to his left cheek. She was probably right. His scar was large and far too memorable. There was no saying who might recognise the description of his face, and that was something he didn't want to risk when he still knew so little about the boy with the scar. Much better to stick to the Blue Spirit.

"I understand," he said to Qiao.

"Good."

Fei's mother smiled sadly at him. "I suppose you'll need supplies for your journey."

Lee flushed in embarrassment, having seen for himself that the family was not affluent. "No, really. I'll be fine. I'm sure I can—"

"Please," she interjected. "I will feel much more secure knowing that you did not leave my home completely destitute."

Swallowing his pride, he bowed his head and placed his right fist just below his left hand, which he kept open and pointed upward. "Thank you."

As he straightened to his full height, he saw Qiao giving him an odd look, but the old woman said nothing. Lee dismissed the matter from his mind and instead focussed on helping Fei's mother pack some provisions for him. Food, money and a flask of water was tucked inside the bag, and then she led him into the other room where she and her daughter slept.

"We're lucky my husband's clothes fit you so well," the healer said, placing a clean set of garments inside the bag. "You can keep the boots I lent you, but I'm afraid we don't have any others to spare. You'll have to make those ones last."

Lee shifted uncomfortably. He had been told that Fei's father had gone to fight in the war; however, it had been five years since the family had last heard anything about the man's whereabouts. It seemed wrong to take the soldier's clothes now, but Lee knew that he didn't have much of a choice. His own clothes had been torn and bloody, and he hadn't even been wearing any footwear.

"The one pair will do fine," he said stiffly. "I mean to travel light, anyway. But, uh, thank you."

A smile flickered in the woman's eyes. "You're not used to accepting things from people, are you?"

He shrugged. Maybe.

"Well, I guess that's a good sign," she continued. "Means you can take care of yourself." She handed him the bag. "Either way, I hope this will help to make your journey easier."

Lee took the pack and slung it over his shoulder, though he was careful not to let it obstruct the access he had to his swords, which he also had strapped to his back. Mumbling another thank you, he turned to leave.

"Lee," Fei's mother said in a soft voice.

He paused. "Yes?"

"Be safe."

Lee nodded to her in acknowledgement. "I will."

Not waiting for her response, he left the room and picked up the blue mask from the table, then said his goodbyes to Qiao and Fei. It was time to go, and the sooner he did the better it would be for everyone. As he exited the house, however, he was conscious of a person following him. He didn't need to look to know it was Fei.

"What is it?" he asked, glancing back at the girl.

For a moment she just stared at him, her expression subdued. He opened his mouth to speak again when she suddenly threw her arms around his middle and hugged him tight, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

"I'm going to miss you, Lee," she said in a choked voice, burying her face into his chest.

Lee held his arms awkwardly away from her, not really sure how to respond. It was a few seconds before Fei stepped back and then she looked up at him with tear-filled brown eyes. There was something in her gaze that whispered of more than friendship and casual conversations. His heart thudded against his ribs, and he was conscious of the moisture gathering on his palms. It would be so easy to lean in—to close the distance between them as he knew the darkening colour of her irises wanted him to do. Yet even as his gaze dropped to her lips, he realised that he could not do it.

_The Blue Spirit always makes a clean escape._

Lee stepped back and placed the mask over his face. "Goodbye, Fei."

He was gone on the words, fading into the shadows of the night. He knew that a door was closing, separating him from the girl with the toothy smile and the life that could have been, but he did not mourn the loss. Because Lee was not and could never be an ordinary Earth Kingdom boy. He was the Blue Spirit, and somewhere out there was the other half of himself: the half who had been watched over by a woman with amber eyes and dark hair; the half who had received a pearl-handled dagger with engravings on either side as a gift. Now, with only a Pai Sho tile and a scrap of parchment to direct him, he had to find that boy.

Lee exhaled deeply as he ran, guided by the silver light of the moon. It was time to begin his search.

**oOo**

It was quiet in the room. Candles flickered, but the two men paid no heed to the dimming of the lights. Their attention was fixed on the board between them, where a lotus began to form as they placed each new tile on the squares. When both players had run out of tiles, they looked up at each other with newfound respect.

"Welcome, brother," the man in the green tunic said, clasping his hands together on the table. "The White Lotus opens wide to those who know her secrets."

General Iroh's mouth quirked into a smile. "I'm counting on it. There is much that needs to be done. You might have heard that I have started the call, but I'm going to need your help to get the news to the rest of the Order."

The man's eyes widened. "Then you must be General Iroh, the Grand Lotus."

Iroh nodded. "But, please, call me Yingjie. It is not safe for me to use my name in these parts. My brother has branded me a traitor and my niece will stop at nothing to have me captured and taken back to the Fire Nation. It is best for everyone if people believe me to be nothing more than a humble Earth Kingdom refugee."

"I understand, Gene—I mean, Yingjie."

"Excellent." Iroh leaned forward, meeting the other's eyes closely. "Now, I have a very important question for you."

"Yes?"

"Do you have any tea?" Iroh gave a mournful sigh. "It's been so long since I've tasted a good cup of ginseng tea, though I'd be willing to have any flavour at this point. You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find the right plants to brew your own while on the run. I thought I could make some with the white dragon bush I found, but, uh—" he gave a belly-rumbling chuckle "—well, that didn't turn out so well."

The man in the green tunic blinked a few times. "Uh, I'm sure we can find you some tea, Gen—Yingjie. Just let me ask Chonglin."

Iroh's eyes twinkled. "Thank you. It will be much appreciated."

The man stood up and left the room. Several minutes later he returned with the aforementioned Chonglin, who was carrying a tray with three cups and a steaming pot of tea on top. Iroh sniffed the air deeply.

"Ah, ginseng," he observed. "My favourite."

Chonglin poured out a cup and then handed it to him, which Iroh accepted gratefully. One sip had the old general sighing in satisfaction. Now that was good tea. When he was halfway through the drink, he cradled the cup in his hand and glanced at the balding man sitting opposite him.

"Perhaps there is something else you can help me with, Chonglin," Iroh said, stroking his beard.

"I will be happy to be of service," Chonglin replied. "It has been a long time since we have had a Grand Lotus stay with us."

Iroh shook his head. "This is something personal, though I admit I had once hoped—" He trailed off with a sigh. "Well, I guess there is no saying what the future will bring."

Chonglin met his gaze steadily. "What is it you wish to know, Yingjie?"

"It's about my nephew," Iroh admitted. "We were separated during the siege of the North. I was just wondering if any of the agents who have been tracking the Fire Nation's movements had heard anything about what happened to him."

The two White Lotus members exchanged troubled glances.

"There have been some rumours," Chonglin said in a grave voice, "but I'm afraid you will not like what they have to say."

Iroh paled and tightened his grip on the tea cup. "Tell me."

"Apparently, Princess Azula found her brother half-dead in the ocean. She was supposed to be taking him back to the Fire Nation where he would be imprisoned, but something went wrong. There are differing opinions about what happened after that, but the general consensus is still the same." Chonglin shook his head in what might have been regret. "I'm sorry, General Iroh, but your nephew is dead."

The cup slipped free from Iroh's fingers, spilling the rest of the ginseng tea on the floor. He did not even think to correct the other man for using his proper name.

"No," Iroh said in a strained voice. "That's not possible."

"I am sorry," Chonglin repeated.

Iroh stared at his hands, which he dimly realised were trembling. In his mind, he could see the boy with the pale gold eyes and the scar that should have never marred his face. That strong, loyal and loving boy, who had tried so hard to meet Ozai's expectations, no matter how impossible.

"I should not have left him," Iroh whispered, closing his eyes.

He had placed the world before his nephew, but for many years now it was Zuko who had meant the world to him. Hearing Chonglin's words was like losing Lu Ten all over again, and Iroh wished with all of his heart that he could turn time back and ignore Master Pakku's warning. If he had a second chance, he would stand by his nephew until the end, regardless of what danger it presented to himself or how it would impact the Order of the White Lotus. But he could not change the past; he could only change the future.

"Are you sure those rumours are true?" Iroh asked in a controlled voice. "Is there any physical proof, like a body?"

"The reports were quite explicit, though it was suggested the most likely cause of death was drowning. I don't believe a body was ever found."

Iroh's eyes gleamed. "Then there is still a chance."

The two men exchanged another troubled glance.

"General?" Chonglin questioned, staring back at the firebender.

Iroh stood up and faced the two White Lotus members with a grim expression on his face. "I am sorry, but I'm afraid I will have to leave you much sooner than I thought. Please, continue to spread the news to the rest of the Order outposts that the time has come to prepare for the next phase. We will need all the aid we can get if we are to end this war."

"And what of you?" Chonglin asked. "Where will you go next?"

"I am going to fulfil a promise I made to myself three years ago," Iroh responded, looking towards the window where he could see the moon shining in a silver crescent against the night sky.

He had sworn to himself when Zuko had first been banished that he would never abandon the prince—that he would stay and protect his young relative for as long as it was necessary. Today, he had discovered that he had almost failed in his duty, but he would not let such a mistake happen again.

_We shall meet again, my nephew,_ Iroh thought, reaching out with his heart to the lost prince whom he had come to love so deeply.

It didn't matter how long it took; the general knew that he would keep searching. He refused to lose another son.

* * *

You would not believe the trouble I went through just to get this chapter finished. Feel free to show your pity and sympathy by clicking on that shiny review button and sharing your thoughts. ^_~

Oh, and is anyone else ridiculously excited for the season finale of _Korra_? I'm loving that show so much. My weekends are not going to be the same without it.


	14. Chasing Shadows

**Chasing Shadows**

The fish was taunting him. Lee didn't know how many times he had thrown, stabbed and lunged with his make-shift spear at the slippery creature, but every time he had missed. His prey didn't even have the decency to swim upstream to escape him in fear; instead it would dive in and out of the water, showing off its silver scales, or else just swim around him in circles. It was infuriating, but it was also humiliating. He didn't understand; the Blue Spirit could take down four firebenders with his swords without breaking a sweat, yet here he was unable to catch one measly fish.

"Just stay still!" Lee growled, raising his spear to strike.

The fish weaved in a diamond-like pattern around his legs and then paused. Quick as lightning, Lee brought the sharpened point down to impale his would-be dinner. A silver tail flicked out in retaliation and then the stream rose up to meet him, splashing him in the face and drenching him from head to foot. He spat out the water that had got into his mouth and scowled as droplets dripped from his hair and clothes. Looking far too pleased with itself, the fish darted to his left and then waited, as if daring him to try again. Lee made a strangled noise of frustration.

"This is impossible!" he groaned, throwing the spear on the ground in disgust.

Clearly, he had not been much of a fisherman in his past. Just like he had discovered, much to his dismay, that he was not good at starting fires either. It had taken him hours to get his campfire going the first night he had headed out on his own for Omashu. After two days of travelling, he thought that he was finally beginning to get the hang of it, but it still took him at least ten attempts before he could create a flame. The action of striking the rocks together just felt so foreign to him, while the rocks themselves just seemed so clumsy and awkward in his hands. It didn't make sense, but then he was beginning to realise that there were a lot of things about him that didn't make sense.

Lee sighed and tugged off his wet tunic, throwing it on the bank next to his mask. He'd been planning on bathing after his meal, but since he was already wet and it looked as if he was going to be eating stale bread again, there didn't seem much point in waiting. He was just about to remove his pants when he heard the sound of voices coming towards him. Panicking, he snatched up his discarded belongings and ran into the trees, where he dropped to the ground and lay flat on his stomach so that he was completely hidden. Exhaling a quiet breath, he watched in tense silence as a group of men in Fire Nation armour appeared.

"So then I asked her if she wanted to join me in the back room," one of the soldiers was saying, who stood out for the ridiculously large moustache drooping from his upper lip.

"And what did she say?" the spearman on the left responded, kneeling down by the stream to fill up his water skin.

"She told me that she would on one condition: I had to get rid of the moustache." The soldier shook his head with a feigned sigh. "Well, naturally I had to put her straight. 'Sweetheart,' I said, 'I don't care if you are the Red Peony and the most beautiful _xi sang_ girl in the Fire Nation; I've been grooming this moustache for three years and I'm not about to cut it off for you."

The group of men laughed and continued filling up their water skins, still chatting good-naturedly amongst themselves about old conquests and the pretty Earth Kingdom girls they'd met during their time abroad. Lee scowled and wondered when they were going to leave. This was not a conversation he wanted to hear—especially since Moustache Man loved to go into extreme detail about all the adventures he'd had behind closed doors. Lee could feel his cheeks flooding with heat just thinking about it.

A man sporting the top-knot of a higher-ranked officer marched into the clearing. "What are you all doing sitting around like a bunch of gossiping women?" he demanded. "Hurry it up! We've been ordered to join the blockade in the pass to the Kolau Mountains. There are rumours that the Avatar is heading for Omashu."

"The Avatar?" Moustache Man exclaimed, dropping his water skin.

"Are you sure, Captain?" the spearman asked, looking a bit alarmed.

"Of course I'm sure, you idiots! Now get your act together and move! I'm not having my regiment be labelled as—" The captain broke off, frowning as he knelt down to examine something on the ground. "What's this?"

Lee's eyes widened as he saw the captain pick up a familiar dagger, which glinted with a black sheen in the afternoon light. The knife must have slipped free when he'd been running. This was not good.

"What is it, Captain?" Moustache Man asked, walking over to stand beside his superior.

"This is not an ordinary dagger," the captain observed, removing the blade from its sheath and turning it on either side to read the inscriptions. "Only someone of very high rank would carry a dagger like this. The quality of the materials used is extremely fine, and the craftsmanship itself is the best I've ever seen. Not even our most prized blacksmiths in the Fire Nation could do better."

"Seems odd that the owner would just leave it here," Moustache Man commented. "You'd think a person would notice losing something like that."

"Unless the owner never left," his superior responded in a soft voice.

All the blood seemed to freeze in Lee's veins. It was then that he realised that his footprints were still visible on the ground, leading straight to his hiding position. His heart thudded against his ribs and he closed his fingers around the sheath encasing his dao blades, getting ready to move. There were only two options he could take in that moment: flee and hope the soldiers would not follow, or fight and hope that he could win. Since Lee was not about to lose the only item he had that he knew personally belonged to him, he decided to go with the latter.

Silently, he slipped the blue mask over his face and then gripped the combined hilts of his swords. Instinct told him how to remove the blades without making a sound, and it was with equal quietness that he rose to his feet and strapped the scabbard to his back, freeing up one of his hands. He'd have to be quick if he wanted to do this without getting hurt or captured. There were seven men in total: three firebenders, including the captain, three spearmen, and a long-range fighter specialising in a crossbow. The odds were not in Lee's favour, but none of the soldiers had noticed his presence yet, too busy discussing the dagger and the whereabouts of its owner. In that he still had the element of surprise.

_Crossbow first_, Lee thought, noticing that the long-range fighter was standing a little apart from the group and that none of the others were paying much attention to him.

Without pausing to reconsider his plan of action, Lee darted out from the trees with cat-like swiftness and clamped a hand over the archer's mouth, pulling the man back with him into the shadows before anyone else could notice. There was a brief struggle and then Lee brought the hilt of his blades down in a hard blow to the head, knocking the man out cold. Letting the limp form slide to the ground, Lee sheathed his blades and then picked up the fallen crossbow and quiver. He slotted a bolt into the correct position and took aim at one of the firebenders, knowing that he had to get this right the first time. Once he was certain that he had his mark, he released the catch and watched as the heavy arrow soared through the air and buried itself into the man's midriff where the leather armour did not cover.

Shouts echoed in Lee's ears as he fixed a new bolt in place and then fired—this time hitting one of the spearmen in the chest and knocking the man to his knees. Lee knew he only had one more shot before he would have to switch to fighting in close-range combat. The crossbow was too slow to be used effectively for long, and it was much harder to deal out an incapacitating blow in one hit. Even still, the wounds created by the weapon would at least help to even the scales for him—if only to impair his opponent's fighting abilities—but he would have to be quick. Already, some of the men were heading to his position, having guessed the general direction from where the arrows had been fired; he also knew that the rest of the regiment could not be far away. The last thing he needed was for one of them to call for reinforcements.

Exhaling deeply to focus his thoughts, Lee aligned the crossbow with the closest soldier and released the catch. He missed his target by several inches, thrown off by the man's movement, but there wasn't time to curse his poor aim. Dropping the crossbow without a second thought, he brought his swords out and heard the familiar song of the blades ringing in his ears; then he charged through the trees towards his opponents, letting his instincts take over as he let go of the boy with the scar and became one with his mask. Duck, slash, parry—he moved like a whirlwind of steel, guided by the memories of past battles, which whispered words of advice to his mind in shadowed echoes and images. He was the Blue Spirit, and he was not going to lose this fight.

Two spears rose to stab him in the chest. Lee swung his swords around in a sweeping arc to knock the spears aside, then counterattacked in a swift, outward thrust that sent both men sprawling. Heat brushed against the bare skin of his back, and he moved just in time to avoid being struck by a fireball. Breathing hard, he turned to see the three firebenders closing in on him. He sensed rather than saw one of the spearmen get up to flank him from behind; the other two were still lying on the ground, too wounded to move.

"Think you can take all of us down?" Moustache Man taunted, holding his palm up as if he were about to unleash a stream of fire.

"Careful, Nianzu," the captain warned. "You should not underestimate the Blue Spirit. He might be just one man, but he is known to be very dangerous."

Lee said nothing and stared at the men warily, his eyes flickering from one face to the next to see who would make the first move. He paused when his gaze came to rest on the firebender standing on the left, who was slumped forward slightly and had blood spreading in a crimson stain on his midriff. Gold eyes narrowed as Lee realised that was the one he had shot with the crossbow. He knew it would be easy enough to take the wounded firebender out, but the other soldiers would be bound to attack if he tried to make a move, and that was a risk he wasn't willing to take when he was surrounded.

_I need a distraction._

Suddenly, Lee remembered how the fish had diverted his attention when he had been trying to catch it earlier. Mouth quirking up into a half-smile, he tightened his grip on his swords and then kicked hard at the gritty dirt. Grains of sand and mud flicked upwards, hitting the three firebenders in the face and making them bring up their arms in reflex to shield their eyes. Already running, Lee lashed out at the wounded soldier with his blades, effectively incapacitating him with a controlled slice to the man's torso and legs. The sound of wood whistling through air had Lee dodging to the side, narrowly missing being impaled by the tip of the spearman's weapon. Growling in frustration, Lee brought his leg down in a ruthless axe kick and snapped the spear clean in half. The spearman's eyes widened in fear, but a second later he was joining the injured firebender on the ground, rendered useless by a swift thrust to his side.

"Stop him!"

Lee didn't know who had shouted, but he didn't wait to see. Swinging his swords back into an offensive stance, he ducked a fireball and then lunged for Moustache Man, breaking through his defences to knock him down with a hard kick to the stomach. It was not Lee's intention to kill—somehow, it just felt wrong to do that to these soldiers, even if the primal instinct to survive was making him lash out with more ferocity than was necessary. So, instead of following up with a killing blow, Lee once again brought the hilt of his blade down and knocked the man unconscious. Arms suddenly latched around Lee's middle, clamping his arms and his swords to his side.

"Got you!" a voice grunted in his ear, which Lee recognised as the captain's. "Now drop the swords, or you'll soon find out what it means to be embraced by fire."

Heart pounding in his chest, Lee released his grip on his blades and then relaxed just enough to make his captor think that he was completely subdued.

"Good. Now I want you to—"

Before the captain could finish his sentence, Lee rammed his head back to smash against the other's face, then followed up with a vicious kick to the shins. There was a cry of pain and the arms that had been trapping Lee in place released their grip. Not pausing to see how much damage he had caused, Lee snatched his swords up from the ground and then spun around in a flash of steel. He watched as the captain slumped to his knees, clutching at his stomach where blood trickled out in ribbons of red. Crimson was also splattered over the firebender's face from where his nose had been broken.

"H-how?" the captain choked out, staring up at Lee through wide eyes.

Lee ignored the question and brought his dao swords together to form one blade, then reached down to remove the dagger from the man's belt. He was about to leave when he paused and turned back to glance at the injured firebender through the slits of his mask.

"You should get a healer to look at that wound," Lee said, gesturing to the gash on the captain's stomach. "I tried not to cut through any vital organs, but it's possible I miscalculated with that last strike."

A flicker of surprise crossed over the man's face. Without waiting for a response, Lee sheathed his blades and then headed towards the trees to gather up his belongings. If the rest of the regiment had not already been alerted from the sounds of fighting, he knew that they would no doubt be along soon to discover what had happened to their captain and fellow soldiers. It was best just to go.

Scrambling into his wet tunic and boots, he slung his pack over his shoulder and then turned to leave when he spotted the crossbow and quiver of bolts lying on the ground. A frown tugged at his lips. The crossbow was not his weapon of choice—he had instinctively known how to use it, but he had realised rather quickly that he was not an expert at hitting his target. Still, it had come in handy, and there was no saying what other dangers he would face during his passage through the Kolau Mountains, especially if it was true that the Fire Nation was forming a blockade.

"Better to be safe than sorry," he muttered, snatching up the crossbow and quiver.

He had just finished fastening the weapon to his pack when he noticed the unconscious archer lying not far away from him. Lee would have dismissed the man, but the coil of rope attached to the archer's waistband caught his eye. A flash of impulse made him decide to take that too, so Lee untied the rope and shoved it in his pack, which he then slung over his shoulder. The quiver of bolts soon joined the bag, but the teen did not begrudge the added weight.

The sound of heavy machinery snapping through branches had him glancing up in alarm. Realising that he had run out of time, Lee checked to make sure that he had not forgotten anything and then headed deeper into the trees, knowing that he would have to get far away from the stream if he wanted to avoid being pursued. As he ran, however, it was not the thought of being chased that troubled him; rather, it was one sentence that he had overheard the captain say to his men.

"_There are rumours that the Avatar is heading for Omashu."_

Lee frowned as he ducked under a branch, wondering why that name had struck such a chord with him. There had been no rush of memories, no faceless voices—just an odd urge to follow, as if it was the Avatar who had been calling him to action all along. No matter how hard he tried, however, he could not connect the pieces to explain the feeling. His mind was a jigsaw puzzle of broken echoes and shadows, and nothing he did could make the different segments fit. It was frustrating, but no more than any of the other times he had discovered a gap in his memories that he was unable to fill.

Shrugging off the matter, Lee increased his speed and focussed only on getting out of the forest. He still had a lot of ground to cover before he reached Omashu, and he could not afford to be distracted with so many Fire Nation soldiers crawling around. Right now, he just had to concentrate on surviving.

**oOo**

It had been a relief to escape the secret tunnel and—at least in Sokka's case—the troupe of singing nomads. After so many hours of being stuck underground with only off-key love songs, wolfbats, and giant badgermoles to keep them company, Aang and the others had been certain that no further problems could arise to obstruct their path to Omashu or the grand feast that would surely await them. They were wrong.

"I still can't believe it," Aang said, gazing at the front wall of the city where the Fire Nation flag fluttered proudly in the wind. He looked back at his friends with a pained expression on his face. "I know the war has spread far, but Omashu always seemed so untouchable."

"Up until now, it was," Sokka observed in a grim voice. "Now Ba Sing Se is the only great Earth Kingdom stronghold left."

Katara tore her gaze away from the conquered city. "This is horrible, but we have to move on."

"No," Aang said firmly, stepping forward with his staff. "I'm going to find Bumi."

Sokka reached out to grab the younger boy by the arm. "Aang, stop. We don't even know if Bumi's still—"

"Still what?" Aang growled, turning back to glare at his friend.

"Around," Sokka finished, not quite able to meet the airbender's gaze.

Aang tightened his grip on his staff, refusing to even consider the idea that Bumi could have been killed. Once the thought had been put in his mind, however, it was difficult to banish. Somehow, that just made him angrier.

Katara placed her hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze with sympathetic blue eyes. "I know you had your heart set on Bumi, but there are other people around who could teach you earthbending."

Aang wrenched himself free of her grasp. "This isn't about finding a teacher. This is about finding a friend."

"But, Aang—"

"No!" He stepped back from the siblings, shaking his head in frustration. "I can't do this again! I already spend every day wondering if the Blue Spirit is alive and if it would have made a difference if I had gone to look for him when I had the chance; I refuse to do the same for Bumi!" His voice softened and he dropped his gaze to the ground. "Bumi's the only friend I have left from the world I knew. Kuzon, Gyatso—they're all gone. Maybe to you it seems like a hundred years have passed, but to me it doesn't feel that way. I can't just abandon him."

Sokka sighed in defeat. "You know this will be dangerous. There are bound to be Fire Nation soldiers swarming all over the city."

"I know," Aang said quietly, "but I still have to try. I'm not leaving until I know Bumi is safe."

Katara placed her hands on her hips. "Hold on a minute. You're not actually planning to sneak into an occupied city by yourself, are you?"

He blinked in confusion, then looked to Sokka for clarification.

"I think what my sister is trying to say is that we've got your back."

Aang's eyes widened. "But—"

"Take it or leave it, Aang," Katara interrupted, "because there's no way we're letting you go in there alone."

As if on cue, Momo jumped onto his shoulder and gave a loud chirrup that might have been a show of agreement.

Aang couldn't help the smile that came to his lips. "Thanks, guys."

Sokka folded his arms across his chest. "Well, I hate to be the one to dampen the mood, but there is one problem—" He pointed at the newly erected front gate. "With no earthbenders around to open a path through the wall, I bet the only way into the city is through that gate, and I seriously doubt the Fire Nation is going to open up its doors to us just because we ask nicely."

"We could always fly over on Appa," Katara suggested.

"Are you crazy?" Sokka exclaimed, throwing his arms up in horror. "Have you forgotten what happened when we tried to fly past those troops guarding the pass to the Kolau Mountains? _Fireballs_, Katara. Lots and lots of fireballs!" He pointed at the bison behind them. "Look, Appa still has bald patches from where his fur got singed!"

Appa made a mournful noise, as if to corroborate Sokka's claim.

"Fine," Katara sighed. "Then what do you suggest we do? We have to get inside the city somehow."

Aang twisted his mouth in thought. "I think I have an idea."

**oOo**

Sokka stared at the sealed drain pipe sticking out from the lower wall, which they had only managed to reach by flying down into the moat on Appa. The bison was still hovering near them, waiting to see if he would be needed to take the group back up to higher ground should Aang's plan fail. That scenario did not seem likely, though Sokka did have to wonder about one thing.

"This is your secret passage?" he asked, glancing up at the airbender, who was trying to remove the seal by using his staff as a lever. "Why didn't we just use this last time?"

Aang finally succeeded in popping the cap off from the pipe, allowing a stream of foul-smelling sewerage to pour out. Katara and Momo managed to avoid the sludge; Sokka was not so fortunate.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed, trying to clean off the greenish liquid with his hands, and all the while pulling comical faces of disgust.

"Does that answer your question?" Aang asked with a hint of amusement.

Sokka glowered. "Next time, a little warning would be nice."

"Sorry," Aang said with a grin, and then he jumped into the pipe.

The Water Tribe boy just stared at the opening with an expression of acute distaste on his face. "He doesn't seriously expect us to follow him into that bog of eternal stench, does he?"

"I guess so," Katara sighed, and then she looked at the lemur perched on her shoulder. "Come on, Momo."

Together, waterbender and lemur slipped inside the drain. This left Sokka in quite the predicament. If he stayed outside, his manliness would be called into question since a twelve-year-old boy, a girl, and fuzzy creature who was scared of large fish had all gone where he dared not. But the sewerage just smelt so bad, and was that a mouldy sock?

"I guess I have no choice," Sokka muttered. He threw a glance at Appa. "You'd better go find somewhere to hide for a while, big guy. We'll call you if we need you."

Appa rumbled in acknowledgement and then flew off in the direction of the cliff tops. Turning back to face the drain pipe, Sokka pinched his nose with his forefinger and thumb and then clambered inside the opening, only to gag as the stench became a hundred times stronger. Katara and the others were already up ahead, calling for him to hurry. Sighing and looking rather miserable, Sokka trudged through the sludgy spirits-knew-what and tried not to think about how squishy the ground felt.

Next time he thought he'd just risk the fireballs.

**oOo**

It was dark by the time Lee reached Omashu. He had been surprised to discover that the city had been conquered by the Fire Nation, but he had come too far to let something like that stop him. Regardless of who was controlling the city, he was going to get inside that library and see if he could find something about the path of the ancient ways.

The wall did present a problem. Lee knew that he could just wait until the gate opened to sneak inside, but there was no saying how long that would take. Fortified cities only opened their front gates to welcome in new supplies or visiting officials. Since he was neither, he had to find another way. After examining his surroundings, he frowned as he realised there really was only one option: somehow, he would have to climb over the wall. Unfortunately, there were no solid footholds, since the barrier itself had been made with earthbending.

"There has to be a way," Lee muttered, folding his arms and staring up at a more secluded part of the wall, which was where he had thought to begin his climb.

That was when he remembered the crossbow and rope. Dumping his pack and the stolen quiver on the ground, he picked up one of the metal bolts and examined its sturdiness, testing to see if it would be able to pierce through stone and how much weight it could carry without dislodging. Frowning, his eyes flickered back to the barrier of stone. His plan was dangerous—very dangerous—but if it worked...

Lee tightened his grip on the bolt. "I have to try."

Removing the rope from his pack, he tied one end to the arrow in a complicated knot and then—after making sure the rope was not going to come loose—slotted the bolt into position on the crossbow. He exhaled deeply as he raised the weapon to fire, praying that he would get this right. Another breath, and then he released the catch and watched the bolt soar through the air, burying itself into the topmost part of the wall. The rope uncoiled like a snake and dangled against the side of the stone in a thread of silver; however, Lee was frustrated to see that it stopped just under halfway and would be impossible for him to reach from the ground.

Clenching his jaw, he fixed a new bolt into place and shot the projectile into the stone, just within his reaching distance. A second followed a little higher up from the first, and then another and another. Sometimes he misjudged his aim, sometimes the arrows ricocheted off the stone, and sometimes he just had to wait so the guards he could see patrolling the wall would not be alerted to his presence from the noise. By the time the quiver was empty, however, he had created a zigzagging-like line of bolts leading to the bottom of the rope, like a ladder without rungs. It wasn't his chosen method of scaling a wall, but it would have to do.

Lee discarded the crossbow and empty quiver over the edge of the precipice, knowing they were both useless to him now without any bolts to fire and would only weigh him down. He hesitated when he picked up the pack. It wasn't exactly large, but it was cumbersome and would get in the way if he had to suddenly fight. Best just to leave it outside for now; he could come back to get it later. Lee did, however, remove the water skin, which he stuffed into his tunic to join the Pai Sho tile and scrap of parchment. The dagger was safely tucked into his boot. Satisfied that he had everything he needed, he turned back to face the wall.

"Here goes nothing," Lee muttered, and jumped up to grab hold of the first bolt.

The climb was not easy. It took all of his agility and strength to make it up his make-shift line of hand-holds—especially when one of the bolts decided to slip free, almost sending him tumbling to the ground. He was not to be deterred, however, and soon made it to the rope, which he was able to scale much more quickly. Upon reaching the top, Lee waited until the guard patrolling that section had moved further down the rampart before he came out from his cover. Ducking low so he would not be seen, Lee wasted no time in sneaking away from the outer wall, knowing there were sure to be more guards on patrol. He could only hope that no one would notice the rope, which he had left just in case he couldn't find another method of escape.

_Now to find the library_, he thought.

Usually, his mind would supply him with an instinctive map, but this time he had nothing. Clearly, he had not made a habit of visiting the Omashu Library in his past. He would just have to search the old-fashioned way and hope that he could find it before he was discovered by the Fire Nation.

So it was that Lee made his way over the rooftops, grateful for the compact nature of the city that allowed him to leap from building to building without any of the soldiers patrolling the ground noticing him. He frowned as he wondered why no one else seemed to be wandering the streets. Perhaps there was a curfew in place—that would certainly explain the quiet but tense energy that emanated from the city.

He was just making his way past some scaffolding when he heard a strange rumbling noise, followed by the sound of something heavy crashing and falling. Turning around in alarm, he saw a boy wearing an orange cape knock an avalanche of rapidly plunging rocks away with a blast of wind that seemed to shoot out from his staff. On the plaza below, two females and a group of soldiers stood watching in surprise, all of whom would have surely been crushed had the boy not stepped in to help them.

"The resistance!" the woman holding a baby exclaimed, pointing a finger at the boy.

Lee was stunned to see the girl in the red dress step forward and fan out her arms, releasing a flurry of small, arrow-like darts that headed straight for the boy with the staff. With rare grace, the boy dodged the projectiles and then gestured for his two companions to run, whom Lee had only just noticed had been standing behind the orange-clad kid the whole time. A frown creased his brow as he watched the guards climb up the ladders to pursue the trio. Another girl—this one darker skinned and clothed in blue—managed to knock some of the guards off with waterbending, but then the same female in red rushed onto the platform with fresh weapons clutched in her hands, already aiming to attack.

Perhaps it was the fact that he knew the boy had only been trying to help, or perhaps it was simply because he wasn't used to playing spectator. Either way, Lee found himself jumping down from his perch just as the girl in red made to unleash another volley of darts. In one quick lunge he grabbed her by the wrists and twisted her arms up, making the projectiles shoot harmlessly into the sky. Light brown eyes glared up at him as he held her subdued, and for a moment he was struck by the familiarity of her angular, almost cat-like features. Was it possible that he had met this girl before?

Before he could ponder the matter further, she slid her foot between his and then yanked back hard, shaking his balance. He recovered in an instant, but by then she had already slipped free of his grasp and was firing a hail of knives from the mechanisms tucked in her sleeves. His eyes widened behind the slits of his mask as he realised he did not have time to dodge the attack. She was too close—her weapons too fast.

"No!" someone yelled.

Suddenly, a wall of ice came up between him and the knives. He stepped back in surprise, and then a hand latched around his wrist and started tugging.

"Come on! We have to get out of here!"

Lee didn't argue and followed the waterbender towards where he could see the boy with the staff and another male clad in blue fighting the last of the guards. Soon, it was just the four of them on the platform.

"You!" the boy with the staff exclaimed, taking an impulsive step towards Lee. "Is it really—"

"Aang, we don't have time for this!" the waterbender interjected. "That girl with the throwing weapons is still coming after us."

As if on cue, a red-tinted knife flashed past Lee. He reached forward on instinct, pulling Aang out of the way just as the knife embedded itself into the scaffolding directly where the younger boy had been standing.

"That was close," Aang gasped, still leaning against Lee's chest as he tried to get over his shock.

Narrowing his eyes, Lee released the boy's cape and brought his swords out with a ring of steel. He gestured for the others to run and then stepped forward to meet the girl in red, realising that she was not going to give the trio a chance to escape if she could help it. This girl was determined, and she was ruthless too. Still, he'd immobilised her once. He could do it again.

"No, wait!" Aang exclaimed.

Before Lee could respond, the kid rushed forward and brought his staff around in a sweeping curve, creating a gust of wind that surged forth and crashed against the scaffolding to their right. Suddenly, bits of metal and stone were falling down in front of them, blocking the path with debris and conjuring a wall of dust. Lee thought he might have heard the whirring sound of darts shooting through the air, but he didn't get the chance to warn the others. As he opened his mouth to speak, the ground opened up from underneath them and sent them all plunging into the earth—and out of reach from the girl with the projectile weapons.

Lee was sure that he had left his stomach back up on the surface—it certainly felt that way—but then his back hit the ground with a thud, and he realised the drop had been quite small. A second later someone landed on top of him, knocking all of the breath from his lungs. Groaning, he sat up and saw the same kid in orange sprawled on his lap. For a moment they just stared at each other: Lee irritated, while the young boy just looked as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Then two scrawny arms wrapped around Lee's chest, pulling him into a tight hug.

"It really is you!" Aang exclaimed, still clutching Lee as if his life depended on it. "I was so worried! I didn't know what had happened to you, and then I started hearing rumours that you were dead, and I—"

A man cleared his throat. Lee would have been amused at how quickly Aang froze upon noticing the four earthbenders, but in that moment he just felt too shaken. It was one thing to sense that there were gaps in his memories; it was quite another to have some random boy hug him and babble on in a bewildering rush of words as if they had always known each other. Even now, Lee could feel his mind throbbing in twinges of pain from the effort of trying to make sense of it all, yet there were no images to help him connect the pieces. He was just ... _lost_.

Trembling slightly, Lee barely noticed when Aang got off him, though somehow he found himself back on his feet. Strange. He didn't remember standing up. Lee rubbed at his temples, trying to ease the headache that scattered his thoughts. He felt so disorientated. Voices echoed around him in a buzz of noise, but he couldn't make out the words. It wasn't until he became aware of an insistent tugging on his sleeve that clarity returned, allowing him to focus on the young boy standing beside him.

"You okay?" Aang asked, looking up at him in concern.

Lee stared at the boy with a frown, as if just noticing something. "You're the Avatar, aren't you?"

Aang blinked. "Uh, yeah."

"And we know each other?"

"Of course." Aang nudged him in the ribs. "You're the Blue Spirit."

Lee let out a breath that he didn't realise he had been holding. "Right," he said flatly. "The Blue Spirit."

Aang scrunched his face up in confusion. "Is this some kind of game or something?"

Lee was about to respond when they were interrupted by the blue-clad warrior from earlier.

"Hey, Aang," the boy said, "I know you're happy to see the Blue What's-His-Face again, but Yan says he's not going to wait any longer. We need to keep moving."

"Sorry, Sokka," Aang said with a sheepish grin. "We're coming now." He glanced back at Lee. "You are coming with us, right?"

Lee nodded. Not that he had much of a choice in the matter. It wasn't as if he could earthbend his way out of the tunnels.

Aang beamed in approval and then darted ahead to join the waterbender and the four earthbenders. There was a lemur flying in circles above their heads, chittering in a loud, irritable way as if to tell them to hurry up. Lee frowned. He didn't remember seeing the creature earlier.

"Hey."

Lee glanced back at the warrior. Sokka, did the Avatar say his name was?

"I know Aang thinks the world of you," Sokka said in a low voice, "but we've had people help us in the past only to turn on us a second later." He leaned forward, pointing a threatening finger at Lee's face. "I've got my eye on you, Blue Mask."

Not waiting for a response, Sokka stalked away to join the rest of the group. Lee repressed a sigh before following. In truth, he was not surprised that the boy had tried to intimidate him; he probably would be just as mistrustful if he were in Sokka's situation. Still, Lee did have to wonder what he was getting himself into by going with these people.

Hugs and now threats? He hated to think what would be next.

* * *

Certain sections from this chapter have been based on scenes from the episode 'Return to Omashu'. Some of the dialogue has also been paraphrased and directly quoted from this episode. And yes, the 'bog of eternal stench' is indeed a reference to _Labyrinth_. I just couldn't resist.

Oh, and if you're wondering why I have allowed so much time to pass before Aang and co. reached Omashu, here is my explanation:

1) Azula meets up with Zuko and Iroh. Then she dithers around on her boat for a while before she decides to ditch the royal procession and find Ty Lee; however, even after all of that she still somehow manages to make it to Omashu around the same time as Aang and the others. Unless she has some secret powers of deduction and speed going on, that's not going to happen in a couple of days.

2) Aang and co. are travelling via a _flying_ bison. This suggests to me that the Earth Kingdom base was a lot further away from Omashu than the show lets on, for the same reasons I explained above.

3) If we're to believe events are happening simultaneously, Zuko suddenly having hair in the Cave of Two Lovers episode suggests at least some time has passed; otherwise he'd still be sporting his monk hairdo.

4) Nothing to do with canon, but I really just wanted to have the Blue Spirit run into the Gaang in Omashu. ^_~


	15. A Friendship Forged, A Trust Broken

Apologies for the delay. I've been busy with family and work, and then my health decided to take a nosedive. That said, thanks very much for your patience and support, and thanks to all the anonymous reviewers! Your comments are always appreciated, even if I can't respond.

* * *

**A Friendship Forged, A Trust Broken**

The tunnel was filled with resistance members and citizens: row upon row of grubby people in brown and green—most of whom were sporting the signature barefoot style of earthbenders, but there were also non-benders and those who were clearly just displaced civilians. Lee stood apart from the group, only half-listening to the conversation between Aang and Yan, the leader of the resistance. His head was still throbbing from trying to sort through his tangled memories, but underneath the pain was a deeper sense of discomfort. Being around so many people was making him edgy. He found himself searching for exits, only to remember that it was earthbending alone that could grant him passage through the tunnels. It was not a reassuring thought.

Lee folded his arms and surveyed the people gathered before him, taking comfort in the sheathed dao blades that he could feel pressing into his back. At least he knew he would never be completely defenceless so long as he had his swords within reach. Not that he thought the residents of Omashu were going to attack him; he just didn't like feeling so confined and crowded, so vulnerable.

"Are you alright?" the waterbender asked, moving over to stand beside him.

Lee nodded, making the white streaks on his mask glint from the green light illuminating the cave. It gave him an unearthly, almost menacing appearance, but the girl didn't seem intimidated and took a step closer. She opened her mouth to speak again when the sound of raised voices had them both turning to look in the direction of the resistance leader.

"Fighting the Fire Nation is the only path to freedom," Yan declared, meeting Aang's gaze with a grim expression, "and freedom is worth dying for!"

"Actually, there's another path to freedom," Aang responded. "You could leave Omashu. You're directing all your energy to fight the Fire Nation, but you're outnumbered. You can't win. Now is the time to retreat, so you can live to fight another day."

"You don't understand!" Yan hit his palm against his fist. "They've taken our home and we have to fight them at any cost!"

"I don't know, Yan," one of the resistance fighters interjected. "Living to fight another day is starting to sound pretty good to me."

Another earthbender stepped forward. "Yeah, I'm with the kid."

Lee frowned as he watched the group of residents and warriors mutter amongst themselves. It had not taken him long to notice the subdued look in the resistance fighters' eyes. He knew that these people had been fighting because it was in their nature to be stubborn and stick to their roots; none of them really thought that they could win against the Fire Nation. He hoped that Yan had enough sense to listen to the Avatar. The kid might appear to be a bit of an idiot, but his advice had been just as wise as that of any great general's.

A general...

Lee froze, his heart quickening as if in a strange sense of kinship with the word.

"_We only just got permission to leave port. As humiliating as it is to admit, I know I don't have the power to go against Zhao—at least not openly."_

"_That's very wise of you, Ne— ... A true leader knows his weaknesses and when he must bide his time for the right moment to strike."_

A sharp stab of pain lanced through Lee's head. He winced and rubbed his temples, resisting the urge to scream in frustration even as the blurred images slipped from his grasp. He had been so close that time. So close.

"Something wrong?" the waterbender asked, looking at him in concern.

"Just a headache," Lee said dismissively.

He was reluctant to share the truth about his amnesia, knowing that anyone could take advantage of him if he wasn't careful. All they'd have to do was fabricate some truths about his identity and he wouldn't know any better. Until he knew that he could trust these people, he wasn't telling them anything.

A crease formed on the girl's brow and she gave him an odd, searching look. Instead of saying anything, however, she turned back to face Aang and the resistance leader, who had finally come to his decision.

"Fine," Yan said, folding his arms, "but there are thousands of citizens that need to leave. How are we going to get them all out?"

"Suckers!" Sokka exclaimed.

Everyone stared—including Lee, who wondered if the other boy was all there in the head. Even the lemur chittered questioningly from where it sat perched on the waterbender's shoulder. Judging by Sokka's widening grin, however, he had not intended the word to be an insult; instead, he raised his finger to the air with dramatic flair.

"You're all about to come down with a nasty case of pentapox!" he elaborated, and his blue eyes glinted with a mischievous gleam.

Lee scrunched his face up in confusion. "What's pentapox?" he asked the waterbender.

She laughed. "You'll see."

The next morning, Lee finally understood why the waterbender had been so amused. Buckets of purple pentapi had been collected from the sewers, which—as Sokka demonstrated on Yan—left red suction markings on the skin from the little suckers attached to the creatures' tentacles. Though harmless, the marks did make the victim appear to have some kind of skin disease. Combined with an old man's coaching on how to act ill, the civilians and resistance fighters were transformed from red-spotted residents to an army of plague carriers—all of whom moaned and stumbled as they walked while looking as if they were about to die on the spot. It was a genius plan, for not even the Fire Nation had the power to combat an epidemic; the governor would be forced to let them go or risk his people succumbing to the 'sickness' as well.

Lee folded his arms across his chest and watched the spectacle of the Omashu residents practising to be ill. He'd declined the offer of having the waterbender—Katara, he reminded himself—put pentapus marks on him. He didn't need to pretend to be one of the living dead to slip past the soldiers, and he had no desire to remove his mask if he could help it; he had not forgotten Qiao's advice. Besides, he wasn't planning on joining the great exodus to escape the city. He had come to Omashu to find information about the path of the ancient ways, and that was what he was going to do. First, however, he needed to discover the location of the Omashu Library. That was when he noticed Yan walking past holding a bucket of pentapi in his arms.

"Wait," Lee said, pushing himself away from the wall and taking a step towards the resistance leader.

Yan threw an impatient glance his way. "What is it? Can't you see I'm in a hurry?"

"Can you tell me where to find the library?" Lee asked. "It's important."

"You're wasting your time, kid," Yan said bluntly. "The Omashu Library has always been part of the palace, and that was razed to the ground when the Fire Nation first took over the city." He took a firmer grip on the bucket, stopping a pentapus from escaping. "I'm sorry, but whatever information you were hoping to find is gone."

Something cold settled in the pit of Lee's stomach. Dimly, he was aware of Yan walking away, but everything seemed so insignificant and fuzzy to him in that moment. All he could think was that it had all been for nothing. No one had seemed to know about the path of the ancient ways, and now he had discovered that the library and all of its contents had been destroyed as well. It was so frustrating, so hopeless. He had been certain that Omashu would give him the answers he sought, but all he had found was another dead end.

"Everything okay?"

Lee turned at the sound of the voice and saw the Avatar frowning up at him. The orange turban was once again wrapped around Aang's head, yet Lee noticed there were no pentapus marks on the kid's face or neck.

"You're not joining the others," Lee observed.

"I see you aren't either."

Lee's jaw tightened and he looked towards the city centre, staring at the space where the palace used to be and where the governor's house now gleamed in red and black. "It doesn't matter now," he said bitterly. "The knowledge I was searching for no longer exists."

Aang hesitated a moment. "You know, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Yan. If it's information you want, I know someone who might be able to help."

"Who?" Lee demanded, locking gazes with the younger boy, even as his heart thudded with renewed hope.

"King Bumi. He can be a little crazy sometimes, but he knows a lot—especially about the Earth Kingdom." Aang gave a shy smile. "I'm going to go look for him now. You could come with me if you like."

A crease formed on Lee's brow. There was something familiar about that grin. Something that whispered of a clearing and a boy hugging his knees to his chest as he talked about the past.

"_If we knew each other back then ... do you think we could have been friends, too?" _

Lee let out a small breath. Just like that the memory was gone, retreating back behind the walls of his mind that he could never breach. His head was lightly throbbing from the effort of trying to piece together his broken past, but he ignored the pain and stared at Aang with a new intensity. The Avatar had said that they had known each other—had hugged him and greeted him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Was it really possible that they had been friends?

"Alright," Lee said quietly. "I'll come with you."

Aang's grin widened. "Great! With the two of us searching, we should be able to find Bumi in no time."

Lee nodded in acknowledgement. A commotion from the left had both boys turning to look at the assembled group of residents, all of whom were now suitably spotted and ready to begin the march for escape.

"Okay, everyone!" Sokka called, taking the lead. "Into sick formation!"

With much groaning and shuffling, the residents formed a pack and started making the slow trek for the gates. Lee and Aang exchanged a glance of silent agreement and then headed in the opposite direction.

"Aang!" Katara exclaimed, running towards them. "What are you doing? Aren't you coming with us?"

Aang shook his head. "I'm not leaving until I find Bumi."

Momo leapt onto Aang's shoulder and chittered as he grabbed the boy's mouth.

"Sorry, Momo," Aang said, picking up the lemur and handing him back to Katara. "I'll feed you later."

Momo's ears drooped in disappointment. Katara glanced up at Lee, and he could see the undisguised worry in her eyes.

"You've always been there to help Aang in the past," she said, meeting his gaze through the slits of his mask. "Please protect him now."

Lee gave a slight nod. "I will."

"I can take care of myself, you know," Aang complained, looking somehow disgruntled yet at the same time pleased that the waterbender was showing so much concern for him.

"I know," Katara said, "but I'll just feel better knowing that the Blue Spirit is keeping an eye on you, too." A faint smile. "You have to admit that you do have a habit of getting yourself into dangerous situations."

Aang rubbed the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin. It seemed that even he couldn't argue with that.

"We need to go," Lee stated flatly, turning his back on them. "It'll be easier to find King Bumi while the Fire Nation soldiers are distracted."

"You're right," Aang agreed.

Saying his last goodbyes to Katara, Aang then used airbending to propel Lee, along with himself, to the rooftops. Lee landed in a half-crouch and got to his feet to survey their surroundings. Not far below, he could see the residents of Omashu moving in a swarm of brown and green, filling up the narrow streets. Shouts of plague echoed throughout the city as the watchmen became aware of the situation. It would not be long before the alarm was sounded.

"They'll be keeping Bumi somewhere where he can't earthbend," Aang said, coming to stand beside Lee. "Got any ideas?"

Lee shook his head. "I don't think I came to Omashu very often. Your guess is as good as mine."

A slight crease formed on Aang's brow. "Right," he said slowly. "Well, I guess we'll just have to take our chances then." He flashed Lee an ear-splitting grin. "Think you can keep up?"

Lee rolled his eyes. "Just get moving, Avatar."

"Yes, sir!"

Aang bounded ahead, seeming to float rather than jump from one rooftop to the next. Lee followed with much less grace, but his strength and agility made up for his inability to bend the air currents into carrying him across the gaps. The Blue Spirit had made his home in the shadows; jumping over rooftops had never been a problem for him, just as he had no trouble keeping pace with the airbender now.

"It's just like old times, huh?" Aang said with a laugh as they ran side by side.

"Yeah," Lee said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Just like old times."

Except he had no memory of those times. He was a walking blank: a boy whose slate of identity had been wiped clean with a careless hand, leaving only blurred splotches of the truth. But here was someone who had known him—someone who could tell him about the past if he was willing to trust the monk.

Frowning, Lee slowed down to a walk. "Hey, Aang," he said, testing out the Avatar's name on his tongue for the first time.

Aang stopped in his tracks. "Yeah?"

Lee opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. "Nothing," he said, walking ahead. "It's nothing. Let's just keep searching."

Aang didn't move. "You know, you've been acting kind of weird ever since you joined us yesterday. Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Why would you think it isn't?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because you almost died!" Aang took a step towards him. "I know things haven't always been easy between us, but you're here now and you're actually helping me again, so I'm guessing something must have happened to change your mind about a few things."

Lee sighed and looked the other way. "That's the problem, Avatar. I don't remember what happened."

"What?"

"One day I woke up in a healer's house," Lee confided, knowing he could no longer keep the truth to himself. "I didn't know who I was or where I had come from. The girl who had been helping to take care of me said I hadn't spoken a word for two days; I wouldn't even move unless someone guided my limbs into action." He turned to meet Aang's horrified gaze. "Shock, the healer called it. Apparently, my body and mind had suffered too much pain at once; I was as good as dead, but somehow I snapped out of it. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to regain my memories."

"But you're better now, right?" Aang exclaimed, looking rather pale. "I mean, you remember me."

Lee shook his head. "I've managed to piece together some things, but most of it is just fragments. The only thing I know for certain is that I am the Blue Spirit." His voice took on a wistful tone. "I don't even know my real name; I've just been calling myself Lee because that is what Fei and her family took to calling me during the time I couldn't speak."

Aang stared down at his hands, mesmerised by the way his thumbs circled each other. "So you don't remember anything about me or the time we spent together."

"I remember a clearing of trees and a boy talking about the world he used to know." Lee's mouth curved into a half-smile, though it was covered by the permanent grin etched onto his mask. "I also remember an offer of friendship."

Aang let out a small breath. "That's it, huh?"

His voice sounded oddly shaky, as if he was trying not to laugh. Or cry.

"That's it," Lee affirmed.

For a moment Aang was silent. Round and round went his thumbs, becoming more frantic with every second. Finally, he dropped his hands to his sides and raised his head to look at Lee. His cheeks were pale, but his expression was determined.

"I can't tell you who you are," Aang said, not quite meeting Lee's eyes, "but I can tell you this. You saved my life once, even though we were not allies at the time and it would have been easier for you to just let me die. I will never forget that." Grey met with shadowed gold. "You're a good person, Lee. No matter what anyone else tells you, I hope that you will remember that."

Lee frowned in suspicion. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"I—" Aang swallowed and tried again. "It's complicated. Let's just say I think it'll be safer for everyone if you keep that mask on."

"I think I understand."

Aang blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Qiao told me the same thing just before I left the town to come here. She said it was better to have people chase a shadow than my real self."

"And what do you believe?"

"I don't think I have much of a choice. There are a lot of things I don't know about myself. Until I know who I really am, I can't take the risk of being recognised as anyone but the Blue Spirit—even by those I want to trust." His voice softened. "I've put enough people in danger as it is."

Aang opened his mouth to respond when a loud clanging had them both looking towards the watchtowers.

"Looks like the alarm has been sounded," Lee observed. "Your friends must have made it to the main plaza. We'd better hurry."

He dashed ahead, but Aang remained where he was, looking torn and sad. Lee glanced back, surprised to see that the other boy had not moved.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

The airbender let out a small breath. "Nothing. I just hope Katara and Sokka are alright, that's all."

"I'm sure they're fine. Now hurry up, otherwise we'll be the ones in trouble."

"Right. Sorry."

Lee rolled his eyes. Somehow, he got the feeling that he was often frustrated with this kid. He didn't know why that thought should make him think of frozen frogs.

"Hey," Aang said, pointing to the alley below them. "I think I see someone I recognise."

"Who?"

"Flopsie!"

"_Who_?" Lee repeated, wondering if he had misheard the boy.

Aang merely grinned. "Come on, I think we just found our ticket to King Bumi."

**oOo**

There were bonfires everywhere. Katara thought the scene would have been quite beautiful—especially with the way the full moon and the stars lit up the sky in a brilliant display of silver—but Aang and the Blue Spirit had still not returned. She was worried. It had been hours since she had said goodbye to the two, and she hated to think that something might have happened to them. What if they had been caught trying to leave the city? What if one of them was hurt or—

But no. The Blue Spirit could heal, so even if one of them did get injured they would be okay. Besides, the Blue Spirit had said that he would keep an eye on Aang, and she knew that the younger boy was no pushover either. She had to trust that they would both return to her safely.

"I know they will," she murmured.

"Huh?"

Katara glanced to the side to see her brother looking at her oddly. "Just thinking aloud," she explained.

Sokka rubbed his chin and looked out into the distance to where Omashu lay behind the cover of the mountains. "I don't like that Aang went with that Blue Spirit guy," he said after a moment. "We don't know anything about him; we don't even know if we can trust him."

"Sokka, he saved Aang's life. I'm sure he's not about to turn around and try to have Aang killed."

"Yeah, and Jet helped us to fight off those Fire Nation soldiers as well. Remember what happened with him?"

Katara just stared at her brother with an unimpressed expression.

"Look," Sokka said, holding his hands up in an appeasing gesture, "all I'm saying is that we've been wrong about people's intentions before. Who's to say that this Blue Spirit guy doesn't have his own agenda as well?"

Katara folded her arms. "His intentions looked pretty clear to me when he stopped that Fire Nation girl from stabbing me in the back."

"And I'm grateful to him for that, but think about it, Katara. What do we really know about this guy?"

Katara closed her fingers around her necklace, watching the flames dance before her in flickers of orange and red. "I know that he's a healer and a waterbender. I know that he risked his life to save Aang and that he's wanted by the Fire Nation. I know that he helped us last night and has continued to help us since then." She shrugged. "Seems like a lot of good reasons to trust him, don't you think?"

"Well, I don't like him," Sokka said mulishly. "He doesn't even talk to us—just stands in the shadows and stares at everyone. It's creepy, and that mask of his is creepy, too."

"He's probably just shy. Aang said that the Blue Spirit prefers to work alone. I guess he's not used to being around so many people; he certainly looked uncomfortable when I was talking to him last night."

She didn't mention that she had been surprised at the familiarity of his voice when he had first responded aloud to her. That for a moment—just a tiny moment—she had felt doubt and fear, because only one person had spoken to her in such a low, raspy tone.

"_I'll save you from the pirates."_

Katara shook her head, brushing aside the memory as easily as a cobweb. Now that she had met the Blue Spirit, she knew that he had nothing in common with the temperamental prince she had helped to heal—at least not where it mattered. Their voices might be similar, but the Blue Spirit was composed and quiet, if a little abrupt at times. Zuko was loud and had exploded at every little thing. There could not have been two more different people. As such, she had not found it difficult to get over her momentary doubt. Nor did she find it difficult to dismiss her brother's suspicions now.

"Honestly, Sokka, I think you're just being paranoid," she continued. "You didn't want to trust Aang when we first met him either, and he's the Avatar! I don't think the Blue Spirit is trying to trick us; in fact, I—"

She broke off as she caught sight of two figures walking towards the camp, one of whom stood out for the blue mask covering his face. Behind them was a large creature with big floppy ears.

"Is that Flopsie?" Sokka asked, following the direction of her gaze and standing up to get a better look.

"I don't know," she responded, "but that is definitely Aang and the Blue Spirit. Come on!"

They ran to greet their friend, who just sighed and allowed his shoulders to droop a little more.

"We looked everywhere," Aang said miserably. "No Bumi."

Katara pulled him into a hug, trying to give him comfort where words could not. Sokka did the same for Flopsie, who was looking just as dispirited and making pining noises for his master.

"They can't make a king disappear," the Blue Spirit said with just the slightest hint of frustration. "If they're keeping him somewhere within the city, we will find him. I've already offered to go back later tonight to see what information I can find in the governor's home. If that fails, I'll try the soldiers' barracks."

"Don't you think that's dangerous?" Katara asked, releasing Aang to stare at the masked warrior.

"I'm good at sneaking," he said with a shrug. "I'll be fine."

"But—"

"Don't worry, Katara," Aang said with a reassuring smile. "He knows what he's doing. I even said I'd go with him, but he told me I'd just get in the way."

"That's because you wouldn't know stealth even if it hit you in the head," the Blue Spirit said bluntly. "To be honest, I expected more from an airbender."

Sokka placed a hand over his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. Even Katara had to repress a grin.

"Hey, it's not like we got caught!" Aang defended, looking a bit red around the ears. "And I'll have you know that the monks always told me I was very light on my feet."

"Just not so good at keeping your mouth shut," his tormentor responded.

Aang was about to make a retort when Yan interrupted them by clearing his throat. Katara noticed that the Blue Spirit alone was not surprised to see the older man. Perhaps he had heard the resistance leader coming. She wouldn't put it past him; the teen—for she assumed the masked warrior was not much older than her—always seemed to be on alert, despite his relatively calm disposition.

"We've got a problem," Yan said by way of greeting. "We just did a head count."

"Oh, no!" Katara exclaimed. "Did someone get left behind?"

"No." Yan gestured to the right. "We have an extra."

All four turned to look to where he had pointed. A group of Omashu residents sat huddled around a fire, but it was the winged lemur that caught her eye. Or, rather, the black-tufted baby who was clinging to the lemur's neck, and who was being dragged around in circles as a terrified Momo tried to escape from its clutches.

"How did a baby get all the way out here?" Sokka asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Momo screeched and flapped his wings, levitating himself and the baby several metres from the ground. As he passed over the group, the baby lost its grip and fell straight for the Blue Spirit, who reached out and caught the giggling bundle easily. Apparently, falling was not a new experience to the little boy.

"Well, I guess that tells us how the baby got here," Aang commented. "Momo must have carried him out of the city by accident." He narrowed his eyes at the lemur, who had perched himself on Sokka's head. "You were stealing food again, weren't you?"

Momo chittered something that might have been a declaration of his innocence.

"Sorry, buddy," Sokka said, reaching up to scratch the lemur behind the ears, "but I don't think anyone is buying that."

Katara laughed and then glanced back at the Blue Spirit, who was now fending off the baby's attempts to grab his mask. "I think he likes you," she teased.

"That's cute," Yan interjected in a voice that suggested he thought quite the opposite, "but you're missing the point. This is a Fire Nation child, and not just any one at that."

"What do you mean?" Katara asked, stepping forward to get a closer look at the baby.

"Look at his clothes," the Blue Spirit said softly. "They've been made with the finest silk. Whoever this child belongs to, it has to be someone important."

Yan folded his arms. "Exactly, and eventually his parents are going to notice that their pride and joy is missing."

"You think they'll come after us?" Aang asked.

"I don't know, but either way the rest of us will be leaving tomorrow morning. It's too risky for us to stay in the mountain ranges with Omashu so close."

"I'd avoid the northern exit if I were you," the Blue Spirit said, capturing both of the baby's hands with one of his own to stop the relentless assault on his mask. "The last time I passed through that way there was a Fire Nation blockade set up."

"We ran into that, too," Sokka said. "There were a lot of fireballs; though, I have to admit, if I had known what was waiting for me in the Secret Love Tunnel, I think I might have just risked the fireballs."

Katara clenched her hands into fists. "Aren't you forgetting something?" She pointed a finger at the baby. "What are we supposed to do about him?"

"We could always get Momo to fly him back to the city," Aang suggested.

"Are you kidding?" she exclaimed. "The last time I tried to get Momo to fetch me some water, he brought me a dead mouse and a crown—not to mention all the other junk he found. I think it's safe to say that using the lemur transportation service is not an option."

The Blue Spirit held the baby away from him, tilting his head from side to side as he examined the little boy. "It's too bad we don't know who his parents are. I could have just dropped him off at their house when I returned to the city later."

"Well, we don't know," Katara said bluntly, "and I'm still not sure if going back is such a good idea. Besides, how would you have found the right house?"

He shrugged.

"My point exactly."

The Blue Spirit leaned over and whispered something in Aang's ear. Katara watched as the airbender chuckled and nodded his head.

"Oh, you have no idea," he commented.

"No idea about what?" Katara demanded suspiciously. "What are you two talking about?"

Sokka grinned. "I think I know. Blue Face over there has just noticed how bossy you can—argh!" He glared at his sister, who had just hit him on the head (and sent Momo screeching for a new perch). "What was that for? They're the ones who said it!"

"Is this true, Aang?" she asked, rounding on the other boy. "Do you really think I'm bossy?"

Aang blushed. "I only meant that you can be a bit, uh, forceful with your—"

"Oh, forget it!" Katara snapped, then stomped over to where the Blue Spirit was standing and snatched the baby from his hands. "Do what you want, but I won't let you drag this child into it. He's just a baby."

"A Fire Nation baby," Yan reminded her, "and one who is currently putting all of us in danger."

Katara merely narrowed her eyes, daring the resistance leader to take the baby from her. Yan did not dare and muttered something about checking on the other residents before moving to one of the campfires further down the mountain path. Satisfied, Katara returned her attention to the boy in her arms.

"Don't worry," she cooed, enfolding him in a hug. "I won't let them hurt you."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "She acts like we're going to put him on a spit and roast him."

Katara glared at her brother. "I heard that!"

"Hey, it was just an observation," he said, holding up his hands. "You have to admit that you are being a little unreasonable right now."

"I admit to nothing of the sort," Katara said loftily, and then she wrinkled her nose. "Though I do think our new friend might have soiled his nappy. Sokka, can you grab my pack? I have some clean rags in there."

"I'll do it!" Aang cried, and shot off towards Appa in a blur of orange. A few seconds later he had returned and was dropping the bag at her feet.

"Thanks," she said with a smile.

Carefully, she placed the baby down on his back and then pulled off his pants and the soiled cloth that had been tied at his waist to stop anything from leaking.

Sokka scrunched up his nose. "Ugh, I think this is my cue to leave."

"Coward," his sister taunted.

"A warrior knows when to fight and when to retreat," Sokka said with all the dignity of a great chief. Then he clamped a hand over his nose and mouth. "This is a time to retreat!"

Katara pursed her lips as she watched her brother flee to another campfire. "What about you two?" she asked, turning to look at Aang and the Blue Spirit. "Are you going to run as well?"

Aang paused mid-step from where he had been trying to creep away. "Uh, of course not," he said, straightening to his full height and laughing nervously. Then he paled, as if an idea had just occurred to him. "Why? Do you need any help?"

She couldn't stop the smile that came to her lips. "Some water would be nice. I'm going to need to clean him before I can replace the nappy."

"Right."

Aang shot off again to look for water. It suddenly got very quiet around the campfire. Only the crackling of the fire and the baby's happy gurgles could be heard. Katara picked up the boy and held him out from her so that he couldn't wriggle away; those stumpy legs of his were surprisingly mobile and were apt to take their owner off when she wasn't keeping an eye on him. Sighing, she stared at the masked warrior who was standing not far from her, looking as still and silent as a human statue.

"I'm not really bossy, you know," she said a little defensively.

The Blue Spirit turned to look down at her, his mask glinting with the reddish glow of the campfire. Instead of saying anything, he just nodded as if to say that he understood.

"Really, I'm not," she persisted, sensing that he didn't quite believe her. "I just—"

"You're just worried and want to make sure everyone is okay," he finished for her. "I get it."

Katara was quiet for a moment. "You know, you never did tell me your name."

He shrugged. "I'm the Blue Spirit."

A wry smile twisted her lips. "Is that really your name?"

He turned his back to her. For a moment she thought he would never answer; that maybe she had crossed a line or been too pushy, but then—

"Lee," he said softly. "My name is Lee."

Katara's smile widened a fraction. "Lee," she repeated. "I'll remember that."

His swift glance had her once more looking at the demonic grin that covered his face. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; even his eyes were shadowed to the point of being unrecognisable, but the fact that she couldn't see his features didn't bother her as it once might have done. The important thing was that he was here. The important thing was that he was safe. And maybe—just maybe—he would stick around to stay with them this time. She hoped so. It would be nice to have another healer around.

**oOo**

Lee was just about to leave to resume his search for Bumi when the messenger hawk arrived. The note turned out to be from the Fire Nation governor, who had accused them of kidnapping his son, Tom-Tom. Desperate, the governor had then offered a trade: his son for King Bumi. It was a deal that Lee and the others could not ignore, even if Sokka insisted that there had to be a catch.

"You're just being pessimistic," Katara retorted. "I don't see why the governor wouldn't want to trade King Bumi for his son. Clearly, he just understands the importance of family."

"The message does seem sincere," Lee allowed, "but we should still be cautious. Sokka is right; this could be a trap."

"I don't think so," Aang said quietly. "I'm sure the governor wants his son back just as much as we want Bumi. I have a good feeling about this."

Katara smiled at Lee. "Well, I guess this means you won't have to go back to the city tonight."

"I suppose," he said without enthusiasm.

Waiting until tomorrow to make the trade just meant more hours of hoping that Aang was right and that Bumi would be able to give him the information that he needed. Lee didn't know what he would do if it turned out that the king was just another dead end. Somehow, he didn't think that a Pai Sho tile, a dagger, a scrap of parchment, and his own fragmented memories were going to get him very far in discovering the truth about his identity. He needed something more solid; he needed to know about the path of the ancient ways.

Lee repressed a sigh and stared at the flames dancing in a swirl of heat in front of him. It was soothing in a way, and he slowly began to relax, letting the fire melt away all his fears and frustrations. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he barely noticed when Aang got up to tend to Appa, but then he caught sight of something blue flashing out of the corner of his eye. Raising his head, he found himself staring at the moon-shaped pendant hanging from Katara's throat, which baby Tom-Tom was now trying to grab.

"That necklace," Lee murmured. "Where did you get it?"

"It was my mother's," Katara explained, touching the pale stone. "She died in a Fire Nation raid when I was young. I've worn it ever since."

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling his own heart clench in inexplicable pain at the thought of losing a mother. "I just thought I recognised it, that's all."

Sokka looked up in interest from where he had been sharpening his boomerang. "That's a traditional Water Tribe necklace. The only way you could have seen one is if you've been to the Northern or Southern Water Tribes."

Lee said nothing. It wasn't as if he could remember if he'd ever spent time in the North or South Poles.

Katara shifted closer to Lee; there was a gleam of suppressed excitement in her eyes, as if he had just confirmed something to her. "Aang told us about how you lost your memories when you got hurt. Maybe you recognise the necklace because it's part of your heritage, too."

His heart thudded against his ribs. "What are you talking about?"

"Lee, you didn't just save Aang's life; you healed him with bending." A warm smile touched her lips. "Don't you see? You're a waterbender."

"That's not possible," he said flatly. "I'm a non-bender. I've always just used swords."

"Then how did you heal Aang?" she persisted; he noticed that she was still smiling.

Lee shook his head. "I think I would know if I could bend. I've been around plenty of water, and none of it wanted to do my bidding."

"Maybe you weren't trying hard enough. Here—" She put Tom-Tom down on the ground and then bended the contents of her water skin into a nearby bucket, which she then held out to him. "Try to move the water."

Lee stared at the unmoving liquid. He felt no connection with it—nothing to suggest that he could bend it to his will. But if Katara was right; if he really was a waterbender ...

He let out a deep breath and placed his hand over the water, concentrating on just a small section of the transparent surface. _Move!_ he willed in his mind. _Move, damn it! _

"Keep trying," Katara encouraged when nothing happened, "but don't try to force it. Waterbending is about working with your element; a constant push and pull, like the tides created by the different phases of the moon. Let the energy flow between you and the water; it will reach out to you."

He nodded and searched within himself, calling upon the energy that flowed through his chi paths. It was strange, for while he could indeed sense some kind of power buried deep inside his body, it was almost as if the pathways that led to that energy had been sealed off. Frustrated, he pushed against the barriers with his consciousness, trying to force a hole for the energy to slip through. The campfire sparked with a new intensity, and he was vaguely aware of Sokka leaning forward to get a better look at the bucket; however, not a ripple disturbed the surface of the water.

_Come on_, Lee thought, feeling beads of sweat form on his forehead. _If I really am a waterbender, then why won't you move?_

"What's going on?" someone asked. It was Aang.

"Katara told Lee that she thinks he is a waterbender," Sokka explained. "Now she's trying to teach him how to bend, as it looks as if he forgot how to do it when he lost his memories. Can't say I'm complaining. I get drenched enough with just the two of you around."

Aang chewed on his bottom lip, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Oh." His gaze flickered to Lee and then off to the side, as if he couldn't bear to look at the older boy. "Well, um, I just remembered that I have to do something, so—"

He left quickly, not even bothering to finish his explanation. Sokka exchanged a glance with his sister.

"That was weird," he observed.

Lee didn't hear what Katara said in response. With one ruthless push he had finally managed to create a hole in the seals blocking his chi. His head faintly pulsed from the effort, and the water still had not moved, but for a moment he could feel the warmth and power waiting to be unleashed; he could feel his energy. Then something snapped inside him, like a string pulled too hard. Daggers of pain sliced through the tender shell of his mind and it was as if a vice was closing in on his consciousness. Gasping, he pushed the bucket away from him and placed his head in his hands, trying to ease his sudden dizziness.

"Lee, what's wrong?" Katara asked, hovering anxiously at his side.

"Just give me a moment," he grunted.

Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax. Slowly, the painful pulsing in his head began to fade, along with the black dots swimming before his eyes. Once he was sure that he wasn't going to faint, he raised his head and looked at the Water Tribe siblings.

"So?" Sokka prompted. "What went wrong?"

Lee shrugged. "I don't know. It's like whatever is stopping me from remembering my past has blocked my chi as well." He shifted his gaze to Katara. "Even if you're right that I am a waterbender, I don't think I'll be bending any time soon."

She lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Lee. I didn't know it would hurt you like that. I shouldn't have been so pushy."

Lee dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. "Forget about it. You were only trying to help. Besides—" he tapped the hilts sticking out from the sheath strapped to his back "—I still have my swords."

As long as he had those, it didn't matter if he could bend or not. Though he did have to wonder about one thing: if he really was a waterbender, then why did none of his memories as the Blue Spirit involve him using anything but swords to fight? And if he wasn't a bender, then what was all that power he had felt buried inside him?

_I don't understand._

But one day he would—of that he was certain. In the mean time, he would just have to hope that tomorrow would prove fruitful for him. Either way, at least he knew his journey to Omashu had not been a complete waste. Qiao had told him that he might find someone who knew him in the city, and so he had. He'd found the Avatar. That had to count for something.

"_If we knew each other back then ... do you think we could have been friends?" _

The faintest of smiles tugged at Lee's mouth. Maybe it was fate that they should have met again. He'd always felt an inexplicable connection with the Avatar, and now he knew why. He'd saved the kid's life. Maybe, just maybe, it was Aang who would now help Lee to regain his.

Well, he supposed only time would tell.

**oOo**

Most of the people gathered around the campfires had already fallen asleep. Aang sat huddled against Appa, hugging his knees to chest as he tried to ignore the fingers of guilt twisting his stomach into knots. He'd lied. He'd lied again and he knew in his heart that what he had done was so wrong, so selfish.

He'd just been so afraid. He'd just wanted his friend back. Somehow, he'd even managed to convince himself that it was fate that the boy with the scar should have lost his memories—that it was okay to lie, because it would all work out in the end. It had been upsetting, of course, but then how many times had Aang wished that the two of them could start again, free from those bitter memories of the North Pole? This was his chance to make things right—to fix a past that had gone so horribly wrong. Or at least that was what Aang had told himself. Deep down, though, he had known that it was fear that kept him silent. He just couldn't bear to see those golden eyes burn with hate—not again. Not after so many weeks of worry and despair.

So Aang had kept the truth to himself. He had _lied_. But then he had seen Katara trying to teach 'Lee' how to waterbend, and he'd just felt sick to his stomach. He should have spoken out then; he hated himself for staying silent.

"I'm sorry, Zuko," Aang whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Because even though he knew it was wrong and selfish, he also knew that it was so much easier to create new strands for his web of lies than to confess what he had done. He was just so afraid.

He just wanted his friend back.

* * *

Certain sections from this chapter have been based on scenes from the episode 'Return to Omashu'. Some of the dialogue has also been paraphrased and directly quoted from this episode.

Ahem, so yeah. Lots going on in this chapter. You may or may not hate me right now, so I'm just going to go hide before the projectiles can be thrown.


	16. Echoes of the Past

**Echoes of the Past**

Clouds had formed in white splotches across the sky, but the sun was bright and warm on Lee's back as he stood with Aang, Katara and Sokka on the construction platform high above the city of Omashu. It was going to be a beautiful day. Not that the weather held much interest for him in that moment. The time had come to make the trade for King Bumi, and he watched now as the governor's emissaries made their way onto the platform. There were three of them—all female—yet it was the one leading the group who caught and held his attention. There was no mistaking that glossy black hair or those angular, almost cat-like features. It was the same non-bender he had fought during his first night in Omashu.

Lee's eyes narrowed behind the cover of his mask. Once again, the suspicion that they were walking into a trap niggled at his mind, but he brushed the thought aside. Trap or not, he had to find King Bumi if he wanted to learn anything about the path of the ancient ways; however, that didn't stop him from shifting his feet into a stance that would allow him to make a quick attack. Just because he had agreed with Aang that they had to take the risk of making a trade did not mean that he was about to let himself be taken off guard. He'd come too far to be defeated now.

A light breeze blew between the two groups, ruffling the Fire Nation girl's hair so that it fanned around her in glossy streaks of black. Her face was expressionless as she raised her hand in what might have been a signal. Lee immediately glanced up to check for archers, only to pause as he heard the creaking sound of metal scraping against metal. That was when he spotted the coffin being lowered towards them by a crane, as well as the laughing old man trapped inside.

"Bumi," Aang murmured with a smile. "We finally found him."

Lee blinked in surprise as he stared at the face sticking out from the metal coffin. That was King Bumi? Aang really hadn't been kidding when he'd said that the king could be a little crazy. With his lopsided features, tufts of white hair and loud, snorting laugh, the old man looked insane.

"Hi, everybody!" Bumi greeted, still snorting with laughter as his coffin came to rest behind the three Fire Nation warriors.

The girl in the red dress continued to stare at them impassively. "You brought my brother?" she asked in a flat voice.

"He's here," Aang said, stepping forward and gesturing to Sokka, who was holding the baby. "We're ready to trade."

The girl glanced towards Sokka and then nodded her head. Some of the tension left Lee's body. This was really going to work, but then—

"I'm sorry," the warrior on the right said, turning to face her leader, "but a thought just occurred to me. Do you mind?"

"Of course not, Princess Azula," the girl in red responded.

_Azula_.

Lee shook his head as a sharp twinge of pain lanced through his mind. Azula. Why did that name bother him so much? He stared hard at the princess, trying to make out her features more clearly, but then she moved to face the king and all he saw was her profile.

"We're trading a two year old for a king," Azula stated in a thoughtful voice. "A powerful, earthbending king."

Bumi smiled and nodded, making an enthusiastic sound of agreement. Lee, however, had to resist the urge to press his hands against his temples, conscious of the way his head throbbed with increasing intensity as his mind scrambled to fit together his shattered memories. Her voice, her face—it seemed so familiar, yet all he saw when he looked at her was a shade of the past: a vision bathed in shadows that revealed no truth or any kind of clarity.

Azula turned back to the girl in red, and a cold feeling shivered down Lee's spine as he saw the sharp little smile playing on her lips. "It just doesn't seem like a fair trade, does it?"

There was a pause as the implication of what the princess was suggesting sunk in. Lee did not miss the subtle change that occurred in the knife girl's expression, noting how her mouth tightened a fraction as she looked towards her baby brother. He could not determine what she was thinking in that moment; whether she was angry that she was being forced to choose between her loyalty to her princess or her brother's safety, or whether she was simply assessing the situation to test the logic of Azula's suggestion. Either way, the mask of impassivity slipped back onto her face a second later and then he could only watch, head still faintly throbbing, as the girl in the red dress began to walk forward.

"You're right," she said with no expression. "The deal is off."

She raised her left hand and just like that the coffin was being hauled away on its chain, taking Bumi out of their reach.

"Whooaaaa!" Bumi exclaimed, though he seemed more entertained than upset at this new development. "See you all later!"

"Bumi!" Aang yelled, sprinting to catch up to the coffin.

Quick as a flash, blue fire was rocketing towards the airbender, forcing him to leap into the air to avoid the attack. Lee's eyes darted to Azula, where they narrowed as he took in her perfect bending stance. Something about that pose—even the calm yet calculating expression on her face—made his head pulse all the more violently, and for a second he caught a flicker of an image: a young girl burning an Earth Kingdom doll to ashes.

"_You'll never catch up." _

His hand froze on his sword hilts, hesitating in his confusion. Someone gasped from next to him and he looked up in distraction to see the turban slip free from Aang's head, revealing the arrow tattoo that marked him as an airbender. Aang made a desperate attempt to catch the piece of orange cloth before it drifted away in the wind, but by then it was too late.

"The Avatar!" Azula exclaimed, looking suddenly smug. "My lucky day."

She started to run towards the lift in pursuit of Aang, who had landed on the coffin and was now trying to free Bumi, but Lee was faster. The ringing song of his swords echoed in his ears as he unsheathed the blades and then brought them out like a wall of steel in front of the princess.

"Not a step further," he hissed.

Azula paused, and her cheeks paled as she met his gaze through the slits of his mask. He didn't understand why she looked so shaken, but then he realised just how close they were—close enough for him to see that her eyes were the same burning amber as that of the woman he sometimes saw in his fragmented memories; that her features were so familiar to him, in fact, that it was as if he were looking into a mirror image of his own face.

Suddenly, the headache that had been bothering him since he first heard Azula's name concentrated into one agonising stab of pain, piercing right into the very centre of his mind. Half-blinded, Lee stumbled backwards even as images began to flash before his eyes, making him drop his dao swords in his disorientation.

"Lee!"

Someone was screaming his name, but he barely heard their cries. The images were coming too fast; they pounded into his skull with the intensity of a poleaxe, to the point where he felt physically ill. He didn't notice when he started shaking—didn't notice when he collapsed to his knees, clutching at his head and writhing on the ground in silent torment. He was lost in a world of fire and storm-tossed oceans, and at the centre of this swirling madness stood a girl with amber eyes. A girl who pointed her hand towards him like a blade and allowed her fingertips to crackle with blue light.

_Azula_.

Something seemed to snap in Lee's mind then, splintering through him like a glass shattering into a hundred pieces. For a moment the world went black, and then he was vaguely aware of hands tugging at his tunic, followed by more hands that dragged and pulled, lifting him into what felt like a haze of nothingness.

"What's wrong with him?" he heard someone mutter, but the boy's voice seemed so far away, like a whisper carried on the wind.

"I don't know, but he won't stop shaking!"

"Can't you do something to help him?"

"I already tried, but that girl in pink did something to my bending. I can't do a thing!"

"Well, at least we got him away from that crazy one with the blue fire. I just hope that Aang and Bumi are alright."

The girl said something in response, but Lee could barely distinguish the words. The world was fading in and out, drawing him back into the darkness—no, into the fire. He was wreathed in flames, sinking deeper into a tunnel of burning gold that wrapped itself around him like a web. There was no escape, no release. He was falling—falling just like he had done when the lightning had pierced into his shoulder, sending shockwaves of white-hot energy throughout his body and squeezing at his heart. This time, however, there was no ocean to greet him; there was only fire.

"_You'll never catch up." _

The words were a whisper, a threat. It seemed important to remember this, but it was as if his thoughts had lost their anchor and were now drifting off in whatever direction the current took them, slipping from his grasp as fast as he clutched at them. He couldn't hold onto the memories any longer, and as the flames dragged him deeper into unconsciousness, he saw an image of the girl with the amber eyes looming over him like some dark goddess painted across the skies, watching him as he fell.

She was smiling.

**oOo**

The room was swathed in red and gold. Azula stared at her reflection, meeting the rich amber irises that stared back at her—eyes that were just like her mother's. Even their lips were the same, but the expression that curved the young princess's mouth had always been sharper, more calculating. It was Zuko who had got all of Ursa's softness; Zuko who had always needed to be reassured and loved, and who was so sensitive to other people's pain—even the stupid turtle-ducks that he and their mother had used to feed together.

Azula gritted her teeth, clenching her hands into fists on the dresser so that her knuckles burned white. It was his own fault that she had killed him. He should never have resisted her. He should have realised that he was completely outclassed, but Zuko had always been stubborn, idiot that he was. So she had decided to put him in his place once and for all; she had wanted to remind him why their father had always called _her_ the only firebending prodigy in the family.

No one had ever mastered lightning so quickly. She knew Zuko would be impressed when he saw the technique, but ever since she had seen him fall over the side of the ship, there were moments where she wondered if she had ever really meant to hurt him that much. He had screamed so loud, and the way he had just crumpled like a paper figure crushed in her fist had seemed strangely jarring to her in her moment of triumph. Zuko had always been weak, but never that weak—never that fragile.

"It was his own fault," she repeated.

But the whispers in her mind kept repeating "monster" over and over, because in her heart she had known that Zuko would not have been able to block the lightning. And she never made mistakes.

Did she?

Azula's expression hardened. "So what if I killed him?" she muttered aloud, glaring at her reflection—at any scrap of Ursa that she could see upon the mirrored surface. "It was what Father had been hoping for when he first banished Zuko; everyone knew the truth. Everyone except my idiot of a brother. Father had always wanted me to be the heir apparent, and now I am." Her mouth curved into a cruel smile. "_Now I am_."

She had no reason to regret her actions. Zuko was probably better off where he was, and—

"_Not a step further." _

Azula's smile abruptly vanished. That masked swordsman had sounded just like Zuko. For a moment she had even thought it was her brother standing before her, but the way he had moved was all wrong, and even though she was aware that Zuko had been interested in weapons as a child, she'd never seen him wield dual dao blades. Nor did she think that her brother would ally himself with the Avatar—especially not after spending three years searching and failing to capture the boy.

No, there was no way that the masked swordsman could be Zuko; her brother had been killed that day on the ship. But that didn't change the fact that there had just been something so familiar about the warrior. It was a feeling that reached deep into her soul, as if he were an echo of some intrinsic part of her identity that had been lost a long time ago.

"_It's okay to be scared, Azula."_

"_I'm not scared. I just can't sleep with all of this stupid thunder making so much noise, and if I have to stay awake then so do you."_

_The young boy smiled and wordlessly wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a loose embrace. She thought about pushing him away, because she wasn't afraid and didn't need to be babied, but the lightning was so bright and the explosions of thunder almost sounded like an army of firebenders storming the palace. Before she knew it, she was leaning in closer to his body, taking comfort in his solid warmth._

"_I'm not scared," she repeated fiercely._

"_I know," he murmured, resting his head against hers so that she could feel the smoothness of his left cheek brushing against her skin. "I just figured you might be cold."_

_She hid her face against his shoulder so that he would not see her small grin. Sometimes, she really liked her brother when he wasn't acting like such a big dum-dum. _

Azula blinked, allowing the memory to fade back into the recesses of her mind. Suddenly, it was not her mother that she could see staring out from her reflection, but Zuko's face: unscarred and handsome, just as it had been before his banishment. Before she had been left alone. Her eyes narrowed.

"So, brother, you think to haunt me as this Blue Spirit, do you?" she whispered.

She'd heard stories about certain spirits entering the physical world to seek revenge for those who had been unjustly killed. It would be just like the spirits to take pity on her weakling brother. Precious little Zuzu who could never do anything right, but whom everyone seemed to love, even with all of his imperfections. Still, that didn't explain why the masked warrior had fallen apart like that in front of her, as if he had started having some kind of fit. Spirits wouldn't do that, would they?

Azula was still pondering this problem when someone knocked at the door.

"Enter," she said sharply.

There was the sound of a handle being turned, and she watched on the reflective surface of the mirror as Mai and Ty Lee advanced into the room. She turned around to face the two girls, her expression cold.

"Well?"

Mai bowed her head. "No sign of them, Princess Azula. The Avatar and his friends have definitely escaped the city; however, they seem to have left King Bumi behind."

"Yeah, it was really strange," Ty Lee said brightly, while twisting her body into an imitation of a chair. "We found him on the high platform, just waiting for us to raise him back up on the chain."

"It could be worth investigating further," Mai observed. "It does seem odd that the Avatar and his friends would waste their time trying to rescue the king only to then leave him."

"Forget about the old man," Azula said impatiently. "Whatever the Avatar was wanting from King Bumi, he got it; you can be assured of that. Besides, we have much more important matters to settle."

Ty Lee grinned as she flipped back to her feet. "We're going to track down your uncle, right?"

"It's not just Iroh now." Azula's expression hardened. "We have a second target."

And this time she would not let the Avatar slip through her grasp. Blue Spirit or not, the last airbender would be hers to claim.

**oOo**

It was quiet inside the tent. Aang sat with Momo huddled on his lap, just staring at the boy lying unconscious on Katara's sleeping pallet. The Blue Spirit mask was still covering Zuko's face—no thanks to Katara, who had been ready to remove it before Aang had stopped her with much arm-waving and exclamations—but that didn't bother Aang. He was just glad that the older boy was no longer shaking. He was just glad to hear the soft inhale and exhale of Zuko breathing, because there was no denying that something had gone terribly wrong. The worst part was that no one seemed to know how to fix it either.

"Don't worry, Momo," Aang murmured, giving the lemur an absent pat. "I haven't started getting those weird feelings yet, so whatever is wrong with him can't be that bad, right?"

Momo gazed up at Aang with big green eyes and then started licking his paw, ignoring the airbender completely. Aang sighed and shifted his attention back to Zuko—or Lee, as he was supposed to call the prince now. The thought still made his stomach twist with guilt. Sometimes, he wondered if it was his fault that Zuko was in this mess. Those girls had been Fire Nation, after all, and it was only when Zuko had tried to confront that bender with the blue fire that he'd started to show any real signs of distress.

"Perhaps I should have told you the truth," Aang whispered. "It would have been easier then, back when you first told me about your amnesia. I just—I just didn't know what would happen if I did." He swallowed, conscious of the painful lump in his throat. "I didn't want you to hate me again."

"Hate you for what?"

Aang jumped at the sound of the new voice. He spun around to see Katara watching him with a frown. He hadn't even heard her enter the tent.

"N-nothing," he stammered. "I was just, uh—"

"I thought the Blue Spirit was your friend. He saved your life—twice, in fact. Why would he hate you?"

Aang lowered his head. "It's complicated."

"You mean you don't want to talk about it," she observed shrewdly.

He flinched a little but remained silent. He knew it was true.

Katara folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I just hope you know what you're doing. Gran-Gran always told me that keeping a secret from someone is like walking over thin ice: eventually it's going to crack. If there is something that you've been hiding from Lee, perhaps you should tell him before it gets any more out of hand. At the very least, it might help him remember something about his past."

"I know," Aang said softly. "I just—" He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."

Because there was no way that Katara could ever understand his predicament. She thought he was keeping secrets from Lee, the masked waterbender turned swordsman. She had no idea it was Zuko under the mask—no idea that the boy she had been trying to help was the same as the one she had grudgingly healed in the North Pole all of those weeks ago. Aang didn't like to dwell on the fact that the only reason she remained ignorant of this knowledge was because he had not been able to bring himself to tell the truth when she had first asked about the Blue Spirit's identity.

"Has your bending returned yet?" Aang asked, deciding to change the subject.

Katara nodded. "I was actually going to try healing Lee now. I don't know how much good I will be, since his condition seems to be more mental than physical, but I still might be able to get him to wake up."

"Well, you won't know until you try, right?" Aang gathered Momo into his arms and then moved aside, giving her more space for bending. "Let's do this!"

Wordlessly, Katara took her place beside him and then summoned her element from the water skin hanging at her waist. Aang watched with interest as she placed her glowing hands on either side of Zuko's head, searching for his meridian paths to check for any sign of chi knots. In his mind, Aang could almost envision the water slipping through to merge with the fiery colours of Zuko's energy, blending in a swirl of gold and healing blue. But then Katara pulled back, and the image he had been creating shattered as he saw the expression on her face. She looked terrified.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling his chest tighten in panic. "Can you heal him?"

Katara guided the liquid surrounding her hands back into her water skin. "I can't reach him."

"What?"

Her eyes met his, wide and filled with fear. "It's like there's this thick wall surrounding his mind, and it's not letting anything through. Everything has been blocked."

Aang's brow creased into a frown. "Do you think that's why he's been having so much trouble remembering his past?"

"Maybe," she said softly, glancing down at the sleeping boy. "But you want to know the scary thing?"

"What?"

"When I came up against that wall, it didn't feel like I was hitting just any old barrier." Her gazed locked with his. "It felt like fire."

Aang swallowed, conscious of the way his mouth had gone suddenly dry. "What do you think it means?" he asked, almost dreading her answer.

"I don't know." She stared back at Zuko, and this time he could see the concern hidden amongst the fear in her blue irises. "I really don't know, but I don't like it."

Aang followed the direction of her gaze, allowing his eyes to travel over the mask that covered the scarred but regal features of the Fire Nation prince. He thought he could guess why Zuko's mind felt like it was surrounded by a wall of fire; what he didn't understand was whether the barrier was of the older boy's own creation or something much more sinister.

_What happened to you, Zuko?_

Aang wanted to speak the words aloud, to beg the prince for answers, if only to ease the sick worry building in his chest. But he couldn't; he couldn't do anything, because Zuko only knew of himself as Lee, a non-bender or possible waterbender, and Katara was still there kneeling next to him, listening to every breath, every possible word. It was so frustrating, so distressing. More than that, though, was the ever-increasing knife of guilt being pushed deeper into his stomach.

Because now Aang understood that Katara's Gran-Gran had been right. Keeping secrets was like walking on thin ice, and the surface under his feet was already cracking.

**oOo**

There was no one in the tent when Lee awoke, a half-strangled scream choking his throat and his body covered in cold sweat. His heart was still pounding from whatever had jolted him awake, but he couldn't remember his dream now—just that it had been dark and disturbing, and filled with so much fire. So much pain.

He exhaled shakily and went to rub his face, only to feel his fingers collide with the painted wood of his mask. The temptation to rip it off was overwhelming. Ever since he had become the Avatar's ally, he barely got the chance to remove the disguise unless he excused himself to eat—and even then he was wary. Right now he wanted nothing more than to wrench the mask off his face and toss it away. The heat combined with the pulsing, repetitive stab of pain he could feel being tattooed into his skull was all just too much. He needed air; he needed to breathe.

But he couldn't remove the mask. Not now. Not when he finally understood the reason for it.

Lee allowed his fingers to slip away from the wooden edges, and then he buried his face—mask and all—into his knees. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, his chest seemed to constrict with all of his pain, all of his despair, to the point where he felt as if his ribs were splintering inside of him. Because now he knew why his memories had always been tinged with fire. Now he knew why people had stared at him oddly before he had hidden his features behind the cover of his Blue Spirit disguise.

"_He has the eyes."_

Lee curled his hands into fists, digging his fingers into the coarse fabric of his tunic. He didn't need to remove the mask to know what he would see: a scarred visage, too pale skin, and pale gold eyes.

Fire Nation eyes.

Heart clenching in distress, he allowed the veil of his lashes to fall, as if by doing so he could somehow erase the colour that painted his irises. He had travelled to Omashu to discover more about who he was and where he had come from, but not like this. Never like this.

Something heavy rustled in front of him, like the sound of fabric being pushed aside. He heard a gasp and then the thud of knees hitting the ground. Two hands gripped his arms.

"Lee!" a voice cried, frantic with worry. "Lee, are you alright?"

Lee raised his face from his knees, meeting the pair of concerned grey eyes that stared back at him. Aang smiled in relief, and suddenly half-forgotten words rushed back into Lee's mind:

"_You're a good person, Lee. No matter what anyone else tells you, I hope that you will remember that."_

"_There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"_

"_It's complicated. Let's just say I think it'll be safer for everyone if you keep that mask on."_

The pain squeezing Lee's heart intensified, but this time there was anger as well.

"You knew," he accused hoarsely, breaking away from Aang's grip so that the boy almost stumbled backwards. "You knew this whole time!"

Aang regained his balance and stared at Lee with wide, startled eyes. "Knew what?"

Lee let out a hiss of frustration and reached up to remove the mask from his face, revealing his skewed features and pale gold eyes. "At first I thought you told me to keep the mask on because of my scar, but now I know that it's because I simply don't look like other people from the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribes." His fingers tightened around the wooden mask. "I've seen green eyes, brown eyes, blue eyes—even grey, like yours. But no one has gold eyes. The only people whose eye colour is similar are the—"

"Fire Nation," Aang finished for him, and then he lowered his gaze. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Lee slipped the mask back on his face and looked the other way. "I'm guessing I must be of mixed blood," he said more quietly. "You get them sometimes in the Earth Kingdom—not that many people like half-bloods." A bitter laugh. "No wonder I chose to wear a mask."

Aang started circling his thumbs round and round each other. "What if you weren't of mixed blood?" he asked, not raising his eyes. "What if … you really were just from the Fire Nation?"

Lee's head throbbed a little more violently, whispering of puzzle pieces of memory that still needed to be fitted together. However, the only image he could see in his mind was of the young girl burning the Earth Kingdom doll to ashes; the same girl who had later struck him with lightning on a boat made of Fire Nation steel.

_Azula. _

"I'm not like them," Lee responded, clenching his hands into fists. "I—I can't be like them."

He hated the way his voice broke, exposing his distress and guilt. Because he didn't want to think that he had no scrap of redeeming blood in him. The people of the Fire Nation were monsters; he was living proof of that. The scar on the left side of his face had not been made by a waterbender, and it was their princess who had tried to murder him that day on the ocean. He couldn't—_wouldn't_—accept that his heritage could only ever amount to one of fire and blood. Besides, he could heal, couldn't he? That had to mean something, but—

But it didn't. Because water had never responded to him, and his skin was too pale and his eyes too gold, and—and he just wished he had never stepped foot onto that platform. He didn't want this. He didn't want this at all.

"You know," Aang said, choosing his words carefully, "I once told you that, before the war, I had a friend from the Fire Nation. His name was Kuzon."

"I remember," Lee said softly.

"Then you'll know that I'm right when I say it's not our nation or our blood that makes us who we are; it's the choices we make."

Lee stared at him for a long moment. "Maybe you're right," he allowed, "but you and I both know that means nothing to the people who the Fire Nation has hurt." His voice took on a slightly bitter edge. "Isn't that why you told me to keep wearing the mask? Because you were afraid of how your friends might react if they knew the truth?"

Aang dropped his gaze to the floor, his face downcast. The silence that filled the space between them was tense and filled with unspoken words, but it was also the only confirmation Lee needed. He gripped his knees more tightly and looked the other way, conscious of the hard lump forming in his throat.

"I want to be alone for a while," he said in a flat voice.

"But—"

"I said I want to be alone!" Lee growled, swinging back around to glare at the younger boy.

Aang held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Okay, okay. I'm leaving."

Lee said nothing and stared back across his knees at the tent wall. His eyes narrowed as the bubbling mixture of rage and hurt battered against his ribcage, screaming to break free. It was a relief when he heard the rustle of fabric being pushed aside, but then Aang paused on the threshold.

"I hope you know this doesn't change anything between us. I—I still want to be your friend, if you will let me."

Lee remained silent. He thought he heard Aang sigh, and then everything went quiet. When he glanced back towards the door, the airbender was gone. It didn't make him feel any better.

**oOo**

The stars were just beginning to appear in the darkening sky, like tiny pearls scattered on a sea of purples and blues. Katara frowned at the tent. "He still hasn't come out," she muttered, and stood up from where she had been sitting by the fire. "I'm going to go check on him."

"Aang said that Lee wanted to be left alone, Katara," Sokka reminded her, not raising his eyes from the ship he was carving in his hand.

"But—"

"He'll talk to us when he's ready."

She sighed and sat back down. "I guess you're right. I just hope he's okay. You saw what happened to him on the platform."

"I doubt that Aang would have left his side if he thought that Lee was still in a critical condition." Sokka turned his head to look towards the hills that surrounded Omashu. "Speaking of Aang, what's taking him so long? He should have been back by now."

Katara followed the direction of her brother's gaze. "You don't think anything happened to him, do you?"

"He was only going to drop the baby off at the governor's house. How hard can that be?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but then she saw a masked figure emerge from the tent and she was suddenly back on her feet. "Lee!" she exclaimed, walking towards him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he said, brushing her concern aside with a dismissive wave of his hand. He paused and surveyed the campsite. "Where's Bumi?"

Katara frowned. "Didn't Aang tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Bumi stayed behind," Sokka explained, placing his knife and the wooden figure he had been carving down on the ground. "He said he needed to listen and wait for the right moment to strike, or something like that."

Lee's hands curled into fists. "I see."

Katara placed her hand against his arm. "You were hoping he could give you some information about the path of the ancient ways, right? Aang mentioned as much to us."

He wrenched himself free of her grip. "Well, it's nice to know the Avatar has seen fit to share everything about me with you. Tell me, is there anything he hasn't told you? Because I seem to be the only person who doesn't know anything around here."

She stared at his masked face—at his tense shoulders and clenched fists. In that moment, he reminded her of a coiled spring waiting to be unleashed. A crease formed on her brow.

"Are you angry?"

He let out a small breath and turned his back on her. "No," he said quietly. "I just—It's nothing. Forget about it."

She exchanged a glance with her brother, who shrugged and held his hands up in the air as if to say he didn't know why Lee was getting all worked up either. Katara frowned and took a step closer to the older boy.

"You know, Lee," she said gently, "Aang only told us about your amnesia because he didn't want us to bother you with too many questions; he said you wouldn't like that. And he only told us about your search for the path of the ancient ways because Sokka kept pestering him about what your intentions were for coming with us to find King Bumi."

"What?" Sokka demanded when they both turned to look at him. "No offence, Lee, but we've only known you for a few days. I was just being cautious."

"No, you were being rude," his sister responded, placing her hand on her hip.

Sokka opened his mouth to retort, but Lee got there before him.

"Look, I don't care about any of that," he interjected. "I'm sure I would have behaved exactly the same if I were in your position."

"Then what's wrong?" Katara asked, glancing back up at him in a vain attempt to meet his gaze.

"Nothing," he repeated. "I'm just tired, and I wish this stupid headache would go away!" He rubbed the side of his head, as if just mentioning it had made the pain worse.

She twisted her lips into a frown. "Is it because of what happened today, when you, um—"

"Lost it?" Sokka supplied.

She glared at her brother. "That is not what I was going to say."

"No, but it's true," Lee said flatly. He sighed and sat down on the ground, staring hard at the fire. "I don't know what happened. Sometimes I get headaches when I sense that something is familiar to me or when a memory returns. Today it was just worse, I guess."

Katara sat down next to him. "You know, you really scared us this morning. None of us knew why you collapsed like that, and then you wouldn't stop shaking." She stared down at her lap. "I was really worried about you."

He gave her a swift glance. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not," she allowed, "but that doesn't mean I don't care."

Lee said nothing; instead he just stared at her, his mask glinting with the orange glow of the fire. Katara wished she could see his expression to know what he was thinking; the demonic grin painted onto his Blue Spirit disguise didn't exactly reveal much. Still, she thought she might have surprised him with her remark. Somehow, she got the feeling that no one had showed much affection to Lee before. It made her that much more determined to prove to him that not everyone was out to get him; some people genuinely did just care, like her.

Sokka rubbed his chin in thought. "Hold on. You said that you get these headaches when you sense that something is familiar to you. Does that mean you recognised those girls we fought today?"

Lee nodded. "That girl with the blue fire—Azula—she tried to kill me once. I don't know why or when; I just know that it happened."

Katara had to resist the urge to grip his hand. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "It's no wonder you had such a bad reaction to her."

"Don't be," he said dismissively. "I don't think that was the first time someone tried to kill me." He threw the bit of dried grass that he had been fidgeting with into the fire, and his voice lowered, as if he were speaking more to himself. "But if I ever see her again, I'll make sure that she pays for what she did."

Katara watched the grass shrivel to nothing as it was consumed by the flames. She didn't doubt the sincerity of his words, nor did she think it was a bad thing that he wanted to get revenge. Her fingers closed around the necklace hanging from her throat. After all, she knew that there were some grievances that could not be forgiven.

Oblivious to his sister's darker thoughts, Sokka leaned back on his palms and considered Lee through surprisingly perceptive eyes. "It's a pity you don't remember more of your past. It sounds like you've had a lot of dealings with the Fire Nation; we could use that kind of information."

Lee gave an involuntary twitch. "What makes you think I know anything about the Fire Nation?"

"Apart from the fact that they all want to kill you?"

Katara frowned at her brother. "You know, Sokka, there is such a thing as having tact. Maybe you should learn to use it sometime."

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you, oh-condescending-one. Look, all I'm saying is that Lee obviously knew his stuff before he lost all his memories; how else would he have known where to find Aang when he got captured by Admiral Sideburns?"

"It's not exactly difficult to sneak into a fortress," Lee said with a shrug. "I got into Omashu fine without being seen, and I'm pretty sure I've never been to that city before."

Sokka pursed his lips, perhaps remembering his own less than graceful method of entering the city. "Right. Well, freakish stealth skills aside, that still doesn't explain why you were near Pohuai Stronghold in the first place, let alone how you knew that Aang had been captured."

"I guess we'll never know," Lee responded with a bitter edge to his voice, "because I don't even remember rescuing the Avatar, and I still have no leads for finding more about the path of the ancient ways."

Katara was about to speak when a flash of a different kind of orange caught her attention. She looked up to see Aang drop to the ground in front of them, spinning his glider shut as he did so. Momo and Appa immediately came over to greet their friend; Appa lathering the airbender with slobbery kisses, while Momo chirruped and jumped up and down on the boy's shoulder. Aang laughed and gave each a friendly pat, then paused when he caught sight of the siblings' expression.

"What?" he said. "Have I got Appa drool all over my face?"

"Well, yes," Sokka admitted, "but that's not the point. How did it go?"

"Oh, fine." A smile curved Aang's mouth. "The governor and his wife both seemed really happy to have their son back."

"What took you so long?" Katara asked. "We were getting worried."

Aang's grin faltered. "I was going to visit Bumi again—just to say goodbye, you know, since I don't know when I'll next see him again—but in the end I decided it was too dangerous. They've got guards swarming all around the place."

Lee stood up. "Maybe too dangerous for you, but not for me. I'm going back; I can't just sit here when there's still a chance that old man has the information I need."

"Wait." Aang gripped his arm, holding him back. "I already asked Bumi about the path of the ancient ways for you."

The older boy froze. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? What did he say?"

Aang frowned. "Well, actually he just laughed and told me the same thing that he always says."

"Which is?"

"That you had to stop thinking about the obvious and open your mind to the possibilities." Aang shrugged. "He said that only then would you find what you're looking for."

Lee made a frustrated noise. "Great. A riddle to answer a riddle. Now what am I supposed to do?"

Katara had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. "Why don't you come with us?" she suggested.

"What?" Lee said, sounding quite surprised.

"You might as well," Sokka said, leaning his chin on his hand. "We'll be leaving tomorrow to look for a new earthbending teacher for Aang. Maybe we can help you find what you're looking for as well."

Lee shook his head. "I work better alone."

But it was an empty excuse at best, and as the three of them continued to pressure him into staying, Katara could tell that he hadn't quite dismissed the offer from his mind. In the end, it was Momo who made the decision for him. The winged lemur landed on Lee's head and made a few chirrups before curling up into a ball so that he resembled a furry hat.

"It seems that Momo has spoken," Katara observed, looking at Lee with a smile. "I guess you'll just have to stay."

And somehow that really was that. A bed was made for him inside the tent, and the bag he had collected that morning from outside the city walls was placed beside their own. He didn't speak much to them for the rest of that night, but Katara still thought it was a good beginning. For some reason, their little gang just felt more complete with him there, as if the space he had come to fill had always been designed for him. She knew that they had made the right decision to let him join their group.

Still, there was one thing that troubled her. She had not forgotten about the wall of fire she had sensed surrounding his mind, nor the peculiar whisper of energy she had felt intermingled with the flames.

"_You rise with the moon. I rise with the sun."_

Katara shoved the thought aside before it could take proper root in her mind, refusing to even indulge in the idea. It was just a coincidence that their energy felt similar, just like it had at first surprised her to hear Lee speak in those low, raspy tones she had only ever associated with one person. For all she knew that might just be what fire felt like, and who was to say that a firebender hadn't done something to Lee's mind?

_Stop being stupid, Katara,_ she scolded herself. _You know that Lee isn't Zuko, so why do you keep fretting over the matter?_

She had no answer for that, but in the end it didn't matter. She'd already banished the thought from her mind once; it was easy enough to do it again. And if it took her a bit longer to fall asleep that night, well, she chose not to dwell on the reasons for why. What mattered was that Lee was with them now; what mattered was that he was safe, and Katara knew that she would do her utmost to help him.

After all, Lee was part of the family now.

**oOo**

The moon stretched forth her hands far into the night, bathing the world in a veil of silver. Lee frowned and glanced back towards the tent where the others were sleeping. He wondered why he had agreed to stay with them. He wondered why he even wanted to continue with this mad journey.

_You could still turn back_, a voice whispered in his mind.

Lee resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his ears. He was sick of hearing that voice; it had been pestering him from the moment he had first woken up and realised that he had Fire Nation blood in him. It was the voice of fear—of cowardice and weakness, and it was far too persuasive for its own good.

Back in Fei's town, he had been offered a chance to forget about his past and start again as Lee the Earth Kingdom boy. It would have been a new life; one that was still possible for him to have if he just gave up this quest for knowledge and returned to the healer's house. He knew that Fei and her family would welcome him. There was nothing to stop him from going back—nothing but his own inexplicable need to keep moving forward. Because there were still things that he didn't know, and even though it frightened him to think what else he might learn about his past, it seemed so much worse to just turn back now simply because he didn't like what his memories were telling him.

Lee pulled out the dagger from his tunic and unsheathed the blade, examining the characters that had been etched onto the side. Someone had given this dagger to him; someone had wanted him to read that message and let it sink into his heart, so that he would know what to do when those difficult decisions were placed before him. So that he would know how to face his fears, even when all hope seemed lost.

He closed his eyes, tightening his grip on the dagger. "I won't give up," he whispered.

* * *

Certain sections from this chapter have been based on scenes from the episode 'Return to Omashu'. Some of the dialogue has also been paraphrased and directly quoted from this episode.

For those who are interested, I have taken a leaf out of maguena1's booklet and set up a discussion forum of sorts for _The Undying Fire _on LJ – no account is necessary_._ Not only will this mean you won't have to deal with the occasional review reply in chapters, but it also means I can finally respond to those questions/comments put forward by anonymous reviewers and people who have the PM function turned off. Yay!

Discussion and questions in general are welcome, so feel free to jump in at any time with your thoughts. The link can be found on my profile. ^_^


	17. Following the Silver Trail

**Following the Silver Trail**

The tavern was rowdy. There was a group of men drinking and laughing as they watched two muscled fighters competing in an arm-wrestling match—rough men who emanated an overwhelming stench of alcohol, blood and sweat, and who wore their weapons for all to see. Mercenaries. To the left, a row of women leaned over the side of the banister, putting on their best come hither expressions in the hopes of earning a bed to share for the night. There was a time when Iroh would have been distracted by those provocative looks, but experience had taught him that women like that only cared for the colour of a man's money and were just as likely to give one a venereal disease as they were a night of pleasure. He had no trouble ignoring them now.

Making his way through the crowd with a benign smile and a nod to whoever blocked his path, he stopped at a table in the far corner where three older men had stationed themselves. They were playing a dice game, but they paused when Iroh's silhouette cast a shadow over their table.

"Can we help you?" one of the men asked, scratching at his bushy side-whiskers.

Iroh spread his hands in a friendly gesture. "I couldn't help but notice you were playing Sānliù Bàozi. I was hoping you would let me join you; I have been travelling for many days and would enjoy a respite to rest my old legs—and some good company," he added with a grin.

The men chuckled and pulled out a seat for him, inviting him to sit and introducing themselves as they continued to play their game. Side-whiskers turned out to be a tanner named Boqin; the quiet gentleman to his right with the green scarf disclosed that his name was Gui and that he was a trader in a little bit of everything, but at the moment was selling masks. The last was a retired tailor named Peng, who was famed for his three-tooth smile.

"And what should we call you?" Boqin asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yingjie," Iroh responded, and then he winked. "But I am also known as a master of tea."

The three Earth Kingdom men chuckled some more.

"A master of tea, he says," Peng observed with a wheezy little laugh. "Well, we shall have to test that boast of yours, Tea Master. In the mean time, why don't you show us your skill with a die?"

Iroh nodded, still smiling as he accepted the proffered dice. He rattled them about in his hand and then released the three dice with an expert flick of his wrist. All four men watched as the wooden cubes landed to show the four, five and six facing upwards.

Peng groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I don't think we should have let him join us, Boqin. Our Tea Master is clearly a master at Sānliù Bàozi as well."

Iroh gave a hearty laugh as his winnings were pushed towards him. "Don't sell yourself short just yet, my friend. The winds of luck may still yet turn in your favour."

Peng still did not seem impressed that their new acquaintance had beaten them so quickly, but it was agreed that they would have another round. Gui started them off by rolling two fours and a three, which he then wrote down on the slate resting near his elbow. Conversation flowed easily between the four as Boqin, Iroh and Peng each had their turn, with Gui continuing to keep a tally of their points. It was as Boqin was getting ready to complete his third roll that attention turned back to Iroh.

"So, what brings you to Yangshuo?" the tanner asked, releasing the dice to more of Peng's groans as three fives appeared.

Iroh gathered the dice in his hand, pausing a moment before he spoke. "I lost my teashop in a Fire Nation attack some time ago. My nephew and I were forced to flee our home, but we got separated as we were travelling. I have been searching for him since." He sighed, both for added effect and out of genuine disappointment. "I had been led to believe that I might find him within this region, but so far I have found nothing—not even a whisper."

"Fire Nation scum," Peng muttered, and then spat. "They ruin everything. Burn down our homes, steal our earthbenders, and destroy our families! Not to mention the taxes they make us pay!"

"Quiet, you old fool!" Gui hissed. "You know that Captain Yaozu has his spies everywhere. Do you want to get yourself taken off to the prisons?"

Peng grumbled something under his breath about firebenders and what he would do if he were only ten years younger, but no one paid much attention to his muttering. Instead, Boqin reached out and gripped Iroh by the shoulder.

"I am sorry to hear of your troubles, Yingjie," he said with open sympathy. "I do not wish to give you false hope, but we often have refugees pass through this way. Perhaps your nephew was one of them. What does he look like?"

Iroh played with the dice in his hand. This was the question he had been hoping for—it was, after all, far easier to get information out of people without arousing suspicion when they were the ones asking the questions—but he always had a moment of hesitation whenever he came to answer. The last time he had seen Zuko was on Admiral Zhao's ship, just before his nephew had gone to infiltrate the Northern Water Tribe and capture the Avatar. But that was Prince Zuko, and Iroh was quite aware that, if he was indeed right in thinking that his nephew was still alive, the teen would not resemble much of a Fire Nation prince now.

"My nephew is about a head taller than me," Iroh said slowly. "Black hair, young—only sixteen—and he has a burn scar on his face, right here." He placed his hand over his left eye, allowing his fingers and palm to outline the same comet-like mark that had been burned onto Zuko's features.

Gui tightened his grip on his drink. "I have seen a boy of that description. He was here, in this town."

Iroh inhaled sharply. "Are you sure?"

There had been so many boys with scarred faces; so many times when he had got his hopes up only to have them crushed once again. He didn't know if he could bear to experience another disappointment.

Gui stared into the contents of his cup. "I'd never forget that young man's face," he said quietly.

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. There was a story behind those words, but now was not the time to be distracted with tales from the past. He had to find out if this boy Gui spoke of was indeed his nephew; he had to _know_.

Iroh set the dice down on the table and met the trader's gaze. "Can you tell me where I might find this young man?"

Gui shook his head. "You'd have to ask Tung-Mei. She was the one who had the boy staying with her. I only saw him once."

"Tung-Mei?"

Boqin smiled. "Our local healer. Her house is on the northern outskirts of the town. You can't miss it."

Iroh stood up and bowed to each of the men. "Thank you for your help, but I'm afraid I will have to cut our game short. I'm sure you will understand."

The three old men assured him that of course they understood, and that they wished him all the best in the search for his nephew. Iroh smiled and made his goodbyes, stating that he would have to play them again—and brew them some of his finest tea—the next time he passed through this way. Peng and Boqin both greeted these words with hearty laughs and jokes, but Gui remained quiet. Iroh was not surprised when the trader followed him to the door.

"Is that boy really your nephew?" Gui asked, holding Iroh's gaze.

"I can only hope," Iroh said with a strained smile. "It has been a long time since we have seen each other. My only wish is to be reunited with him again."

Gui fidgeted with a loose thread on his scarf. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, and then he let out a small breath. "If you see him again, tell him that I kept his secret."

Iroh's eyes narrowed a fraction. "What secret?"

A wry smile curved the trader's mouth. "If he is indeed your nephew, I'm sure you will find out."

An appreciative laugh escaped the old general. "You are a good man, Gui. I will remember that."

Gui nodded in acknowledgement and then Iroh took his leave, though now with a much heavier pocket. He grinned as he listened to the copper and silver pieces rattling about in his money pouch. Gambling was not something he always condoned, but it did come in handy when one was on the run and feeling a little short on change. Tonight had turned out much better than he expected. Just the thought of having a new lead to his nephew's whereabouts made his heart swell with joy and relief.

The sound of the tavern door swivelling back and forth drifted to his ears. He paused to glance over his shoulder, and a brief frown passed over his features when he saw some of the mercenaries standing on the porch and glancing his way. When they started following in his footsteps, Iroh carried on walking and even started humming a small tune. Crunch, crunch, crunch went the sound of the warriors' feet, getting closer the further he got from the main square. Iroh clasped his hands in front of him and hummed a little louder, looking quite relaxed.

A spiked mace was suddenly shoved in front of his face. Iroh looked up to see a large man with tattoos covering one side of his cheek. The old general didn't need to check behind him to know that he was surrounded.

"Good evening," Iroh said amiably. "Nice night for a walk, isn't it?"

The tattooed mercenary looked a bit nonplussed for a moment, but he pulled himself together a second later. "Give us your money, old man!" he growled. "Unless, of course, you want to have your brains spilled out all over the road."

Iroh stared at the group of men with a measuring look. He knew that he could take them out with his firebending; he also knew that he had a good chance even without his bending. The mercenaries, while intimidating for their size, were certainly no Rough Rhinos. But Iroh had not made it this far by wasting his energy on every battle that came his way. Maybe once he might have jumped at the chance, back when he had been just as hot-headed as his nephew, but he had learnt over the years to pick and choose his fights carefully. Now was not the time to show off his strength.

"I will give you the money," Iroh said, still keeping his tone friendly, "but know this: the sly cat-eagle knows when to hide its claws."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" a man clutching a broadsword demanded.

Iroh met his gaze steadily. "You flaunt your strength because you can, but you will never gain true respect as warriors if you continue to abuse and extort money from your fellow men."

The mercenary with the tattoos let out a great, belly-rumbling laugh. "Listen to the old man talk. Just shut up and give us the money, grey-beard. I grow tired of your jabbering."

"Very well." Iroh reached into his pocket, but then—

"Hold it!"

All of them paused at the sound of the new voice, including Iroh. A smallish figure dropped down from the nearby building, clutching a sword that looked a little too large for him in his hands. The newcomer was seen to be dressed in black, but his face was covered by a blue mask with white streaks that formed a demonic grin—the Blue Spirit's mask. A crease formed on Iroh's brow. He had heard many tales about the Blue Spirit, not to mention had his own suspicions concerning the warrior's identity; he knew without a doubt that this was not the same masked swordsman who had once freed the Avatar from Pohuai Stronghold.

The mercenary with the tattoos turned his mace on the intruder. "So you must be the infamous Blue Spirit. You're a lot smaller than I imagined, but that's okay." He ran a finger along one of the spikes on his mace. "It'll just make it that much easier to crush you."

"I'd like to see you try!" the boy retorted, raising his sword.

Something in Iroh's stomach plummeted heavily, for the masked fighter was indeed just a boy, judging by his size and the soft, rather high-pitched quality to his voice. The leader of the mercenaries seemed to have come to the same conclusion, as a cruel smile curled his lips.

"Take your best shot, kid," he taunted. "Let's see if that sword of yours can do better at threatening me than your bratty mouth."

The boy made a frustrated sound and then lunged forward with his sword, only to have it knocked aside—and indeed right out of his hands—by the colliding force of the mace. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the clang of the sword as it hit the ground. The man with the tattoos let out another of his great, belly-rumbling laughs.

"That was almost too easy," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "I can't believe Captain Yaozu and his men had trouble with you. You're nothing but a weak, snivelling little brat!"

The boy took a step backwards and then tripped on an uneven bit of ground, making him fall onto his backside with a yelp of surprise. Unable to suppress a whimper, he started to scramble away, but one of the other mercenaries kicked him in the side before he could escape, forcing him back towards their leader. Iroh clenched his fists as he heard the shrill cry of pain that escaped the boy's throat. He had witnessed enough.

Still smiling cruelly, the man with the tattoos planted his boot on the boy's stomach and raised his mace. "Say goodbye, Blue Spirit."

The spiked end began to fall, but then the man froze and his eyes widened for a moment before rolling back to show only white. Iroh removed his hand from the back of the mercenary's head just as the mace slipped free from slackened fingers; then they all watched as both warrior and mace dropped to the ground with a loud thud, allowing the boy to get back to his feet and run for cover. Before the other men could even think to react, Iroh snatched the length of chain from the mercenary to his right and then whirled it around his head in a tornado of metal. The men were already swarming towards him like locusts when he brought the chain down in a lashing loop on the ground, sweeping three of the mercenaries off their feet in one clean strike. Only two were left standing.

"Watch out!" the boy cried.

Iroh ducked just in time as an axe came careening for his face. He flicked the chain up and around him, weaving it around his body like a shield of corporeal wind before letting it shoot forward with all the speed of a lunging snake to hit his opponent in the forehead. The man keeled over in an instant, knocked unconscious.

"Behind you! Behind you!"

Spinning in a flash of brown and grey, Iroh latched the chain around the charging mercenary's leg and dragged the man to the ground before he could even have a chance to strike. A hard elbow to the head dealt with that one, and then Iroh was moving onto the next man, picking up a discarded sword as he went. They clashed in a collision of metal against metal—their blades scraping against each other in a ringing screech, only to clash again as Iroh parried a blow and then followed up with a quick counterattack that pushed his opponent back several paces. Something shifted the air near his face, and he instinctively moved left, narrowly missing being stabbed with a spear. He'd been flanked.

Warily, he took a step back to position himself between the two men so that he could defend from either if necessary. His breath was coming a little faster now, reminding him that he was not as young as he used to be and that it had been a while since he had relied solely on anything but bending to win a fight. It was a frustrating situation, for he knew that the battle would have been over in three seconds if he'd been able to use his firebending. But he couldn't, because he was a wanted man hiding in the Earth Kingdom, and Zuko was still out there somewhere. It would be foolish to jeopardise his chances to find his nephew now.

Iroh took a firmer grip on the chain wrapped around his left arm and then watched as sword and spear raced towards him. In one fluid motion he brought his sword up to meet the spear, while the chain worked as a shield to deflect the other man's blade from slicing through his forearm—even if it couldn't protect him from the resounding pain that jolted through the limb. Both men broke away, already preparing for a combined counterattack, but this time Iroh didn't even bother to defend; he just side-stepped out of their path as they both lunged to strike. It was too late for them to halt their motions; spear and sword glided by each other and then made contact with vulnerable walls of flesh, leaving both mercenaries collapsing to their knees as blood oozed out from their wounds.

Now there was only one left.

Pausing to catch his breath, Iroh turned to see what had happened to the last mercenary when a sharp cry ripped through the air. His heart thudded in a violent pulse against his ribs, and it was with a sickening presentiment that he looked towards the building to where the sound had originated. The boy had not run as he had hoped; instead, Iroh saw the masked figure kneeling on the ground, clutching at his stomach and hiccupping on half-choked sobs. In front of the boy stood a man wielding a chicken-sabre sickle, getting ready to inflict the finishing blow.

"No!"

The word escaped Iroh's throat in a gasp. He didn't even pause to think; he just threw the sword he had still been clutching at the mercenary with all of his strength, hitting the chicken-sabre sickle aside in a ringing clash of metal. Round and round went the clawed weapon, spiralling through the air like a silver spinning top before it, and the broadsword, clattered to the ground some distance from the building. The mercenary let out a growl and charged at Iroh, but the general simply shifted to the left and then put his foot out, tripping his opponent up. A few seconds later and the man was trussed on the ground like a pig-rooster, trapped flat on his stomach while his wrists and ankles were bound together from behind with the chain. Judging by his angry splutters, he wasn't happy about it either.

Iroh ignored the mercenary's insults, as well as the other groans and curses he could hear from the two men who had managed to escape being knocked unconscious. He had warned them what would happen if they insisted on flaunting their strength; he had no sympathy for their plight now. Instead, he made his way to where the masked boy was huddled near the building. Muffled sobs could still be heard from behind the cover of the wooden mask; it was clear that the boy was trying not to cry.

"Are you alright?" Iroh asked gently.

The boy hiccupped a little and then removed his hands from his stomach. Crimson glistened on his palms and fingers, and there was a splotch of something dark spreading on the fabric of his tunic. Iroh repressed a sigh; he had hoped to avoid this.

"I need to check the wound to see how I can help you," Iroh said, still keeping his voice calm so as not to frighten the child. "Will you let me do that?"

The boy nodded and pulled up his tunic to bare his stomach, revealing the gash that had been sliced into his skin and which even now was spilling precious crimson. Wordlessly, Iroh knelt down and tore off a strip of his own shirt, which he used to wipe away some of the blood to see how deep the chicken-sabre sickle had entered, as well as if any vital organs had been touched.

"Is it bad?" the boy asked, sniffling a little.

"A little further to the left and you might have had a problem, but the cut itself isn't very deep. A nice, clean wound, and one that should be easy enough to fix." A smile curved Iroh's mouth. "I had already planned on visiting the local healer tonight; it would be my honour to take you there so that you can be properly healed."

The boy agreed, if a little reluctantly. No doubt he was worried about having his identity discovered. Iroh decided not to comment on that, however, and simply handed over the torn cloth he had used to wipe away the blood.

"Keep this on the wound," he said, placing the boy's hand over the gash. "It will help to stem the flow of blood until we get to the healer's home."

"Alright."

Iroh reached down to pick up his injured charge, but then a skinny arm was placed in his way.

"Wait, my sword," the boy said, looking around for any sign of his weapon. "Aunt Luli will kill me if she finds out I lost it."

"I think your aunt will be more upset to know that you got yourself hurt taking on a group of mercenaries by yourself," Iroh observed, picking up the dropped sword. "It was very brave what you did, of course, but perhaps not the wisest choice."

"You clearly don't know Aunt Luli," the boy said bluntly as he handed Iroh the scabbard strapped to his back. "Besides, I had to do something. You were just going to let them steal all your money!" The masked face tilted to the side, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Why did you let them bully you like that? You must have known you could defeat them, yet you just stood there."

Iroh gave a faint smile. "Sometimes we must pay a small price in order to reap great rewards. Those men wanted my money, but they would not have attacked me. I saw no need to draw any unnecessary attention to myself just for the sake of keeping a few copper and silver pieces."

"But what those men were doing was wrong! Isn't it better to stop them so that they don't keep robbing and hurting people?"

Iroh sheathed the sword and slung the scabbard over his shoulder. "Perhaps, but being a powerful fighter does not give me the right to deal out justice wherever I see fit."

"I don't see why not."

Iroh's smile widened a fraction. "That is because you are like my nephew: young and angry. One day you will understand that it is better to have restraint when it comes to the battles you choose to fight. Consider the sabre-tooth moose lion; it does not attack every small creature that passes its way but, rather, waits until it or its cubs are truly threatened."

The boy tilted his head to the other side. "Is that supposed to be wise or something?"

Iroh chuckled. "Perhaps. In the mean time, I think we should just focus on getting you to the healer's house. That wound of yours isn't going to heal itself, and I know it must be causing you a lot of pain."

"It does hurt," the boy admitted with another sniffle, which he then hastily disguised. "Not that I'm crying or anything. I'm not a child."

"Of course not," Iroh said gently, "but you will feel much better once you have seen the healer."

The boy murmured his agreement, which Iroh took as a sign that he had permission to continue. Careful not to hurt his injured charge any more than necessary, Iroh reached down and scooped the boy up into his arms. He was surprised at how light and small his burden turned out to be. This little swordsman was clearly younger than he had thought.

"Not too painful?" he asked, while making his way towards the northern outskirts of town.

The boy shook his head. "I can handle it."

Iroh couldn't help but be impressed at the child's strength. Of course, thinking of that just reminded him of another boy who had been just as determined, just as brave. A boy whom he had promised to protect, and whom he had failed so miserably.

_Zuko._

Iroh closed his eyes, conscious of the piercing ache that encircled his heart. It had been so long since he had looked upon his nephew's face. He prayed that the healer would give him the information that he desired. He prayed that this would not result in being just another dead end.

But even for all the love and pain that he felt for his lost nephew, he knew that this was not the time to think of Zuko. The young swordsman in his arms was still bleeding, and Iroh knew better than to let himself get distracted at a time like this. He took a firmer grip on the boy and quickened his pace, noting how the number of houses began to decrease as they got further away from the main part of town. Soon, they came across a dirt path that led to a small house with a porch. Wind chimes could be heard fluttering in the wind, and he could see the light glowing from within the shut blinds, welcoming them forward in a halo of orange. An ostrich-horse was grazing on the grass in an enclosed pen, and it stared at them now with bits of grass sticking out of its mouth.

"Is this it?" Iroh asked.

Before the boy could answer, the door to the house suddenly banged open and a girl in a brown dress stomped onto the porch with a bucket in her hand.

"I know, I know!" she called over her shoulder, sounding a bit exasperated. "I'll put Oki to bed and then—" She froze when she caught sight of them, and the bucket slipped free from her fingers. "Gran! Mum! Come quick! Someone has been hurt!"

Not waiting for a response, she raced down the dirt path to meet Iroh and ushered them both towards the house. Iroh could barely keep up with her questions, but then the boy removed his face from Iroh's chest, revealing the blue mask that covered his face, and she abruptly fell silent.

"Y-you," she stammered, going a bit pale. "I heard the rumours, but—" She broke off, and a crease formed on her brow. "Wait a minute. You're not the Blue Spirit."

Iroh felt the swordsman tense in his arms. "Perhaps this conversation can wait," he said, shifting his grip on the wounded boy. "Our friend here has been through a lot and needs to see the healer."

The girl flushed to the roots of her hair. "O-of course. I'm sorry. Please, follow me."

She cast a fleeting glance at the boy dressed up as the Blue Spirit and then led them inside just as an older woman was about to step onto the porch. The group halted, and the same perplexed look crossed the woman's features as she took in the blue mask. Then she saw the bloody cloth that the boy was holding against his stomach, and her expression shifted from confusion to composed dismay.

"Fei," she said calmly, "get me a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth, and tell your grandmother to start preparing the tea for pain relief. She'll know which herbs to use."

"Right!"

The younger girl, Fei, darted off out the back. The woman, who Iroh assumed must be Tung-Mei, then gestured Iroh to follow her and took him through the sliding partition to a room where a flat bed had been made on the floor. The smell of healing herbs was thick in the air, but the room was warm and welcoming. Carefully, Iroh placed the boy down on the bed, making sure not to jostle him too much so as to aggravate the pain. He placed the sheathed sword down on the floor beside the bed.

"Thank you," the boy mumbled.

"It is my pleasure," Iroh responded with a smile, and then he stood back to his feet and faced Tung-Mei. "I'm afraid it's my fault that our friend here got wounded. He was only trying to protect me from the mercenaries."

"He?" a new voice interrupted with a laugh, and they all turned to see an elderly woman standing in the doorway, clutching a bundle of herbs in her hands. "That's no boy—no Blue Spirit either. Isn't that right, Suyin?"

"Suyin?" Tung-Mei exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise as she stared at the masked figure.

The boy removed the mask to allow silky black hair to tumble free to his—no, _her_—shoulders, for as Iroh looked upon the downcast face, he saw that the little swordsman's lips, eyes and bone structure were all decidedly feminine. The old woman was right. This was no boy, and definitely no Blue Spirit.

"How did you know?" Suyin asked, mouth forming a sulky pout as she stared at her hands.

"I have my ways," the sharp-eyed old woman answered. "In the mean time, why don't we worry about getting that wound of yours stitched up, hrm?"

As if on cue, Fei entered the room again with a bowl of water and a bundle of clean cloths. She paused when she saw the girl resting on the bed, but Tung-Mei put a stop to any further questions and stated that people either had to be quiet or leave. Suyin was hurt, and any interrogations would have to wait until the wound had been healed and she was satisfied with her patient's condition. That was how Iroh found himself sitting at the square table in the kitchen and drinking tea with Fei and Qiao, Tung-Mei's mother-in-law.

"And so I brought Suyin with me here," Iroh said, after he had finished explaining how the young girl had got wounded.

"We've had problems with the mercenaries before, but it's never been like this," Qiao mused, rubbing her chin. "They were hired to help the Fire Nation keep control of the town after the Blue Spirit incapacitated four firebenders; I'm guessing Captain Yaozu offered to pay them extra should they kill the Blue Spirit as well. Suyin was very lucky that you were there."

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. "So the Blue Spirit really did come to this town?"

Fei and Qiao exchanged glances.

"I saw him fight the firebenders," Fei said, placing her cup down on the table. "He left after the battle. There were rumours that he was back in Yangshuo—sightings of a figure in a blue mask causing trouble for Captain Yaozu and the other Fire Nation soldiers, but I guess that must have been Suyin."

Iroh stroked his beard. He'd had his suspicions about the true identity of the Blue Spirit, but he had never confronted his nephew because a part of him had also understood why Zuko must have turned to the blue mask. At the age of thirteen, Zuko had been burned, banished, and set with an impossible task as his only way to redeem himself in his father's eyes; it would have been more surprising had Zuko not tried to create a new identity for himself in which he could forget about the burdens of being a banished prince. Besides, the Blue Spirit had never done anything wrong. Stopped a few cutthroats and thieves, maybe; eavesdropped on tactical conversations, definitely; however, the masked warrior had still stuck to a firm moral code. Iroh had taken great comfort in that, knowing that the way one behaved while in disguise said far more about a person than what one did under one's own name.

As such, the general had turned a blind eye to his nephew's solo expeditions; he had allowed Zuko to escape and be someone else, if only for a moment, but he had to admit that he did wonder about the teen's motives now. Zuko was alone, no doubt feeling angry and betrayed, and clearly had no qualms about attacking Fire Nation soldiers. There was nothing comforting in this knowledge at all. More than ever did Iroh realise that he needed to find his nephew, and soon.

He was about to speak again when the partition to the healing room slid back. Tung-Mei smiled at the three of them and said that Suyin was ready to see them now. Her gaze flickered to Qiao.

"And don't you go scolding her to death, Mother. The poor girl has suffered enough tonight."

"Offering wisdom is not scolding," Qiao rejoined, "and that girl needs a whole lot of wisdom. She should have never tried to take on those mercenaries by herself."

No one could deny the truth of this statement, but Suyin showed little remorse when she was asked why she had dressed up as the Blue Spirit and behaved so recklessly. She complained that people didn't fight back in Yangshuo; they just let Captain Yaozu and his firebenders walk all over them, and it had got even worse since the mercenaries had come.

"I just wanted to show them that we're not afraid and that we won't be bullied," Suyin said, clenching her hands into fists. "That's why I dressed up as the Blue Spirit, because I knew they were afraid of him."

Tung-Mei frowned. "Suyin, it's not that we don't want to fight back, but there is nothing that we can do. We're not warriors and we're not benders. We're just people trying to survive the best we can until this war is over."

"Now you just sound like Aunt Luli," Suyin muttered bitterly. "She's always going on about how I shouldn't draw attention to myself, and that we just have to bide our time and that things will work out somehow. But they don't; the taxes just keep getting higher and the Fire Nation soldiers are still occupying the town. The truth is that she's just scared."

"And for good reason," Qiao interjected. "Think what would have happened had Yingjie not been there to help you tonight."

Suyin looked away, her bottom lip trembling.

Fei knelt down and took the younger girl's hands within her own. "Suyin, I understand why you dressed up as the Blue Spirit. I wanted to do the same after that day in the market; Le—the Blue Spirit was an inspiration to us all. But Mum is right. We're not warriors, no matter how much courage we might feel in our hearts. Please, don't put yourself in danger like this again."

A tear rolled down Suyin's cheek. "They took away my parents, Fei. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

Fei looked up at her mother for help, but Tung-Mei just shook her head in a helpless gesture. Neither of them knew what to say to comfort the young girl. Qiao then stepped in to fill the void, telling Suyin that her parents would come back; she just had to be patient and not get herself into trouble.

"Just think how your parents would feel if they return and you've been hurt or aren't there to welcome them?" Qiao pointed out.

"I guess," Suyin mumbled, looking down at her lap.

"Good. Then you'll know the best thing you can do right now is to stop worrying and get some rest."

"But what about Aunt Luli? She'll be—"

"Don't worry," Qiao interrupted with a wry smile. "We'll deal with her tomorrow. For now, just try to get some sleep." Her grin widened a fraction. "Even twelve-year-old girls who claim to be vigilante warriors need their rest, you know."

Suyin blushed and looked away, but she didn't argue anymore and soon settled down in the bed, clearly exhausted—though Iroh thought the pain relief tea she had been given earlier might have had something to do with her sudden sleepiness. Tung-Mei, always the healer, picked up the bowl of bloody water and cloths and started ushering everyone out of the room, telling them to give Suyin some space. Iroh nodded and was about to stand up to follow Qiao and Fei when he felt a small tug on his wrist.

"Thank you," Suyin murmured.

He paused and smiled down at the dark-haired girl. "You do not need to thank me, Suyin. I am just glad that I was there to help."

She made a sleepy noise that might have been in agreement and then closed her eyes, allowing her hand to lose its grip on his wrist and drop back to the bed. Iroh pulled the blankets up around her more and smoothed the hair away from her face, wishing her peaceful dreams. He tried not to think of how he used to do the same for Lu Ten when his son was that age, or how the boy with the scar had never let him do so once.

Iroh closed his eyes, feeling the familiar ache press down on his heart. It was becoming so difficult to ignore the pain now, as if the absence of his nephew was a bruise that would never quite fade, just like the tender spot that had been created in his chest when Lu Ten and his wife had died.

_Enough._

Iroh pushed the memories of his family aside and stepped away from the bed, sparing one last glance at the sleeping girl before he exited the room. He found Qiao and Fei once more seated around the square table, and they invited him to join them while Tung-Mei got a fresh batch of tea ready. He accepted the offer and watched as Tung-Mei used spark rocks to create a flame to heat the water. Watching the fire flicker to life was not as comforting as it usually was for him. Fire burned within his body, but it had also hurt the people of Yangshuo too much—and many other innocents in the world. A crease formed on his brow, and he stroked his beard as he pondered over everything that he had heard that night.

"Are Suyin's parents earthbenders?" he asked, focussing his attention on the two females opposite him.

Fei nodded.

"Strange," he mused. "I thought that the earthbenders had escaped the prison rig where they were being kept."

"We heard that too," Qiao admitted, "but none of the ones from Yangshuo returned. My guess is that they were probably captured again while trying to come home. There have been many Fire Nation troops patrolling this area of late."

Iroh nodded. "That would make sense, since Omashu has been conquered by the Fire Nation. The Governor would want to make sure that no one could come to the city's aid."

Tung-Mei, Qiao and Fei all exchanged a startled glance.

"Lee," Fei breathed, clutching a hand to her heart. "Do you think he's alright, Gran?"

"I'm sure Lee would have seen the sense not to go strolling into an occupied city," Qiao responded, but her tone and the pointed look she gave to Fei suggested that this was not a conversation that she and her granddaughter should be having.

_There is a secret here,_ Iroh thought.

Normally, he would have allowed the matter to slide, understanding that every family had their stories that they wished to keep hidden; however, it had also occurred to him that Fei had started saying a name beginning with L when she was speaking of the Blue Spirit. If his hunch was right—which he had a good feeling that it was—this 'Lee' was most likely the same boy who Gui had mentioned had been staying with the healers. After all, there was no reason for a merchant who traded masks to remember one boy with a scar. Not unless that same boy had bought a blue mask and then fought off four firebenders with just a pair of swords.

"This might sound strange," Iroh said slowly, "but can you tell me what this 'Lee' looked like?"

"Why would you want to know that?" Fei demanded in a voice that bristled with suspicion.

A sad smile touched Iroh's lips. "I'm looking for my nephew. A man named Gui told me that a boy of the same description had been staying with you in your house. I was actually on my way here to see if that was true, but then the mercenaries showed up and Suyin got injured."

"Your nephew?" Fei repeated, looking a bit dazed.

He nodded and then gave a brief physical description of Zuko, followed by the same story that he had told Gui and the others of how he and his nephew had got separated. When he was finished, all three of the females looked rather subdued.

"That does sound like Lee," Tung-Mei admitted. "It's a shame you did not come earlier when he was still with us. That would have solved many of his problems."

"That's if this guy is even telling the truth," Fei muttered. "For all we know, Lee might not be his nephew at all."

"Fei!" Tung-Mei shook her head in disapproval at the teen and then turned back to look at Iroh. "I'm sorry, Yingjie. As you can see, my daughter is very protective of Lee. He was only a shell of himself when he first came to us. None of us want to see him get hurt like that again."

"Believe me," Iroh said with all the sincerity of a loving uncle, "I would not dream of hurting him. My nephew is like a son to me. All I want is to hold him in my arms again and know that he is safe."

Fei held his gaze steadily. "Fine. Prove to me that you are telling the truth. What does the inscription say on Lee's dagger?"

"Never give up without a fight." A faint smile touched Iroh's lips. "Or 'Made in the Earth Kingdom', if you look on the other side. I gave that dagger to him as a gift while I was fighting in the war. I wanted him to remember the words, so that he would grow up to be a strong warrior."

"Then it's true," Fei said in wonder. "You really are his uncle."

Iroh nodded, even as something warm encircled his heart, chasing away his fears. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. At last, he had found concrete proof that his nephew was alive.

"Can you tell me his real name?" Fei asked, resting her chin on her hand. "We only called him Lee because he couldn't remember anything when he first started talking, but—"

Iroh gripped the table so hard that his knuckles turned white. "What?"

Tung-Mei and Qiao exchanged a troubled glance.

"Please," Iroh said when they continued to remain silent. "Tell me what has happened to my nephew."

Qiao sighed and told him about how a traveller had dropped a wounded boy off at their house. The boy had not been able to speak and would barely move unless someone guided his limbs into action. Two days later he came back to his senses, but it turned out that he had lost his memories in the process. Fei gave him the name Lee for the sake of being able to call him something, but they never did figure out his real name or where he had come from—just that he had once called himself the Blue Spirit.

"All he could remember was that he had been running from someone," Fei murmured.

"And that he had been searching for something," Qiao added. "That's why we suggested he go to Omashu; we thought he might meet someone there who knew him or might be able to help him. We had no idea that the kingdom had been conquered by the Fire Nation. There has been no news from the city for a while now." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Yingjie."

Iroh slowly released his grip on the table. He knew he should say something, but he couldn't quite bring himself to speak. This was just so much to take in, and a part of him wanted to believe that Qiao and her family were wrong. Zuko could not have forgotten everything—could not have forgotten _him_. Perhaps Zuko had just been trying to protect his own identity, knowing that Earth Kingdom citizens would not be welcoming to the Fire Nation prince, so he had pretended that he had lost his memories. Yes, that made sense.

But then Iroh remembered the way his nephew had barely seemed to recognise him that night after the explosion. He remembered how he had felt an inexplicable fear chill his bones, because something had whispered to his heart that Zuko was slipping away from him and that, if he didn't wake his nephew up soon, he might never hear that grumpy "Uncle" again. There was also the problem of how sincerely Qiao, Tung-Mei and Fei seemed to believe that "Lee" had lost his memories. Zuko was many things, but he had never been a good liar.

"Nephew," Iroh breathed in a pained whisper, thinking of the boy with the pale gold eyes—that damaged, determined but still so loving boy, who now could not even remember his own name, let alone his uncle.

Iroh covered his face with his hands, holding back the tears that prickled at his eyes as pain and regret formed hollow chasms in his heart, eating away at any of the brief joy he had felt. Dimly, he was aware of Tung-Mei placing a cup of tea before him and then sitting down to his left on the bench, but he said nothing. This was a harsh blow, for he could not help but feel responsible. If only he had not left Zuko at the North Pole. If only he had listened to his heart.

_I will find you, Nephew,_ Iroh thought. _I will find you, and somehow we will fix this problem. We will piece your memories back together._

Because Iroh had made a promise, and he would make sure that he kept it.

**oOo**

The moon was especially bright that night. Iroh saw it as a good omen. The celestial light had always been the traveller's friend for those from the Water Tribe: a silver guide that could lead one through even the darkest of waters. Iroh got the feeling that Yue—the young girl who sacrificed herself to become the Moon Spirit—wanted to help him, and he knew he would need her light to find his nephew. Zuko was lost in so many ways, and while the healers had disclosed that the prince had left for Omashu, there was no saying if he had ever ended up going to the city. Iroh did not have the time for another wild goose-chicken chase; he had to find Zuko soon, and he knew that it would be too dangerous for him to enter Fire Nation territory with Azula hunting his head. That was why he had decided to send a message through the Order of the White Lotus to check if the Blue Spirit or a boy named Lee had passed through Omashu—and to see whether anyone knew what had happened to the earthbenders from Yangshuo. The city might be occupied, but the Order's line of communication could not be broken so easily. First, however, he would need to find a way to send the message.

Now with a firm plan in mind, Iroh settled his bag more comfortably over his shoulder and stepped off the porch. The sound of a door opening and shutting from behind him made him pause, and he turned to see Qiao watching him with her arms folded across her chest. Her hair gleamed silver in the moonlight, giving her a strange radiance, but her expression was grim.

"You're from the Fire Nation, aren't you?" Qiao said in a matter of fact voice.

Iroh could have lied, but the knowing glint in the old woman's eyes suggested that she wouldn't believe him. Instead, he clasped his hands in front of him and forced himself to stay relaxed.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Your nephew. My granddaughter might not understand what it means to see a boy with fire coloured eyes, but I do. However, it was the way he bowed to us that confirmed my suspicions."

Iroh looked at her with curiosity. "Yet you did not say anything and were still willing help him, even though you knew the truth."

She sighed and uncrossed her arms. "I have lived through this war for too long. I do not like what the Fire Nation is trying to do, but I am not narrow-minded enough to believe that every person who was born to the lands of my enemy is evil. Lee needed our help, and that was all that mattered."

"Then I thank you," Iroh said, bowing to her in turn. "There are not many who can see past their own fear to help an enemy in need, however innocent. It is a relief to know that my nephew was in good hands while he stayed with you." He paused, as if a thought had just occurred to him, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a round wooden tile, which he then handed to Qiao.

"What is this?" she asked, holding the tile up to the light so she could examine it more clearly.

"A white lotus tile," Iroh answered. "It's also a symbol of the society in which I serve, which seeks to re-establish harmony in the world by ending the war and restoring balance. I believe you might be able to help us; we could do with someone of your wisdom and discreetness, and this town is in sore need of an agent to act as a point of contact."

Qiao's jaw dropped, but she pulled herself together a second later. "I suppose I could do that," she said with all of her usual brusqueness, "if it's to help end the war."

Iroh smiled and bowed again. "Thank you. I cannot explain everything to you now, but a man named Chonglin will come looking for you. Show him the tile and tell him that you have my permission to become an initiate and learn the cryptic arts. He will show you what to do from there."

"And what will you do?"

Iroh took a firmer grip on his bag. "I plan to continue my search for my nephew."

And as he once more looked up at the moon, so bright and silver in the sky, he knew that this time he would not fail.

**oOo**

A cool breeze slithered its way through Lee's tunic, sending goose-chicken bumps along his arms. He shivered and hugged his arms around his body, but he made no move to go back inside the tent to where it was warm. Sokka was snoring far too loudly, and Lee had never really felt comfortable going to sleep unless someone was keeping watch. Plus, he knew that the nightmares would just start again the moment he closed his eyes. They were getting worse now, as if the realisation that he was Fire Nation had unlocked a door of memory inside him.

"Not that it makes much difference," he muttered bitterly.

He still couldn't remember anything substantial. It was always pain. Always hurt and longing and anger, even when his dreams showed no fire or tragedy. The last one had been like that. He had seen that man again: the one with the warm, reddish-brown eyes and grey hair; the one who he thought might have given him the dagger.

"Who are you?" Lee whispered.

The moon touched down on his face in a silvery caress, but there was no one to give him the answer he desired. He was alone, and even his own mind could offer him nothing but fragments and broken whispers.

Lee sighed and buried his face in his palms. It was a long time before he returned to the tent.

* * *

1) _"The sly cat-eagle knows when to hide its claws"_ is actually a quote taken from Final Fantasy IX (though I added in the 'cat' part to make it more Avatar-ish). I normally try to come up with my own proverbs, but this one just seemed to fit (and I was feeling a bit brain dead). So, yeah. Not mine.

2) 'Yangshuo' is the name of my imagined town were Lee stayed with Fei and her family. I have positioned it not far from the coast and the Kolau Mountains.

3) For those who were hoping for more Zuko and Gaang action, fear not. Next chapter will have plenty. ^_~


	18. Jigsaw

Very sorry for the wait. I did not anticipate that it would take this long to update, but things should settle down a bit more now that December is out of the way, so yay for that.

Also, a big thank you to Elise and Awesome Panda for your lovely reviews. Hopefully, you will continue to enjoy the story! ^_^

* * *

**Jigsaw**

_He dropped into a crouch and moved cautiously along the tiles, careful not to lose his footing. The sun was hot on his back and under his palms, but he was so close now. So close. Opposite him was the ledge where Zhuā, the head chef's monkey-cat, had got stuck; all he had to do was make it across the rooftop so he could tuck the distressed animal inside his tunic and then begin the climb back down the wall. It never occurred to him to be afraid—to even consider that something could go wrong—but then someone called out to him from below and he turned to see the much smaller figure of a girl with dark hair staring up at him._

"_What are you doing up there, Dum-Dum?" she demanded, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun with her hand. "Do you want to get yourself hurt?"_

_He opened his mouth to respond, but then one of the tiles shifted under his feet and his stomach lurched as he felt himself plummeting backwards, losing his hold on the sun-warmed roof. A sharp cry of surprise escaped his lips and he grasped wildly at the air, trying to find purchase on something—anything to stop his fall—but it was too late. Down and down he went, half-deafened by the roaring noise in his ears, and only dimly aware of the girl screaming something that might have been his name._

_Then came the sickening crunch of a body hitting the ground; of bones cracking as shockwaves of agony juddered through his nervous system. The pain was blinding, disorientating. He felt like he had been crushed and squeezed and broken, and there was blood trickling down his chin from where he had bit his lip, and he was just so scared. So, so scared. But then something flickered to life inside him; something warm and gentle and soothing. Instinctively, he reached out for the heat, letting it wrap around him like a cocoon and—_

Lee opened his eyes with a choked gasp, still trapped in the nightmare of falling from rooftops and crushed bones. Warmth was tingling in his fingers, through his veins, but it faded a second later as he realised that he was not bruised and broken, but curled up in his corner of the tent with his blanket tangled around his legs. He let out a breath and tried to calm his racing heart, ignoring the way his head throbbed in dull stabs of pain. Headaches were a constant companion to him now that his memories were returning more often, and he knew in his heart that what he had just dreamt had been real. Once, he had climbed a high roof to rescue a monkey-cat; he had also fallen and broken several bones from the impact. It was amazing that he had not been paralysed.

Frowning, he rubbed a hand over his face, only to have his fingers brush against wood. That's right; he was still wearing the mask. He would have taken it off—for his skin felt clammy with sweat, and he longed to breathe without the stifling cover of the mask—but Katara was asleep in her pallet not far from him, and there was Aang flat on his stomach next to her, with Momo curled up like a fuzzy ball on his back. Lee couldn't take the risk. There were was no saying if the waterbender would suddenly wake up, and, if he were to be completely honest, he just didn't feel comfortable at the thought of not wearing his disguise around people while he still had no idea about his true identity. It made him feel naked, somehow. Vulnerable. As if he were walking into a wall of armed soldiers with no armour or weapons, just waiting for the steel tips of blades to strike.

He sighed and sat up, glancing at the door where he could see flickers of light peeking through the crack in the cloth. Dawn. Typical. He always seemed to wake up at this time, as if his body was attuned to the rising of the sun.

"_You rise with the moon. I rise with the sun."_

Lee winced and clutched his head, feeling his vision blur and flash with white dots as the pain intensified with the recollection of almost forgotten words. He hated reliving the really fragmented memories. His mind would try to paint a picture for him of his past, but all he would see were swirls of colour that might have been faces, like staring at an image through an unfocussed telescope. Scraps of words would flitter through his thoughts, but the effort to piece together those scattered jigsaw pieces would always be too much; then the agony would hit and he'd be left reeling, his body trembling as his mind felt like a pincushion being stabbed over and over with needles of pain.

Thankfully, his mind had shut down on that particular memory quickly enough, like an elastic band snapping back to shield his thoughts. He could still remember how much it had hurt when he had looked into Princess Azula's eyes and felt waves of truth assail him like a thousand daggers; when he had realised that they had shared a history together and that he was Fire Nation, just like her. He never wanted to have another episode like that again. Try to see too much into his past at once and he would fall apart; it was something that he instinctively understood. But it was just so hard to keep control sometimes. The memories were coming back, whether he wanted them to or not, and the image that they were creating was one that left his stomach twisting in unease.

Aang made a sleepy noise and rolled over onto his side, dislodging Momo in the process. The lemur sat up from where it had flopped to the ground and chittered indignantly at the airbender before swooping through the tent door, clearly unimpressed. Lee couldn't help but smile at the furry creature's antics and got to his feet, grabbing his sheathed dao blades. He stepped over Katara and Aang's sleeping forms as he followed Momo outside, pausing on the threshold to survey the campsite. There was Momo making a new nest for himself on top of Appa's head, and then Lee caught sight of Sokka sitting on a log near the remnants of their camp fire, eyes closed and with his chin almost resting on his chest. So much for keeping watch.

"Sokka!" Lee said sharply.

The darker skinned boy sat up with a jerk, making a grab for his boomerang as he stared around blearily for any sign of an intruder. Then his gaze rested on Lee and he visibly relaxed, even managing a small grin. "Oh, it's you," he said, placing his weapon back in its holster. "What's up?"

Lee's mouth curved into a frown. "You were supposed to be keeping watch."

"I have been keeping watch! I've been as vigilant as a cuckoo-bat."

"There's drool on your chin."

Sokka had the grace to blush and wiped away the specks of drool. "Alright," he said, shoulders slumping, "so I might have fallen asleep. But we're safe, the camp's safe. No harm done, right?"

Lee just sighed and headed towards the trees, shaking his head in mild exasperation. Sometimes, he wondered how any of these kids had survived for so long. Sure, they knew how to hold their own in a fight, but the way they set up their campsites was just asking for an ambush. They hadn't even bothered to have someone keep guard while they slept until he had come along and insisted they do so (because whatever Aang might think, Appa was not a good guard bison). Not that it made much difference when Sokka was falling asleep on the job.

"Hey," Sokka called, standing up from the log. "Where are you going?"

"Wash," Lee said shortly, not even bothering to look back. "I won't be long."

He didn't wait for the other boy to respond and made his way to the river where Katara and Aang had practised waterbending the previous day. The area was sheltered by trees and bushes, but he still paused to make sure he was truly alone before removing his mask. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he felt the cool, morning air brush against his exposed skin. That was better.

Stripping off the rest of his clothes, Lee waded into the river and then dived when he was deep enough, running his hands through his ever-growing hair and scrubbing at his body to get rid of the grime that coated his skin. He had realised quite early into his travels that he did not like to feel dirty. The thought would bother him like the itch of a mosquito-fly bite, making it impossible for him to relax, so he had always tried to make the most of every stream, river and lake that he could find. He didn't see why that habit should change simply because he had joined the Avatar. Plus, he liked swimming. It was … fun? That wasn't a word he usually used to describe things, but something in him whispered that he had always enjoyed this activity; that, in his past, he had often played in water just like this, happy and carefree.

Unfortunately, in his current state, Lee was neither happy nor carefree. In fact, he was pretty much as miserable as a person could get, and it always came back to the same, niggling concern. He broke through the surface and grabbed a handful of water, cradling it in his cupped palm. The liquid was cool to touch and slid through his fingers like the finest of silk. He knew that it would never burn through flesh to leave a scar like the one seared onto his face; it would never consume and destroy, turning all to ash. Water was not like fire, just like the people of the Water Tribes were not like those from the Fire Nation.

Not like him.

"_Lee, you didn't just save Aang's life; you healed him with bending. Don't you see? You're a waterbender."_

He closed his eyes, letting his hand drop back to his side with a splash. Katara had been so certain that this would be the case, yet none of his memories had ever hinted that he might be able to bend water, let alone any element. Even now, standing waist-deep in a river, he felt no connection with the liquid surrounding him.

"_Keep trying, but don't try to force it … Let the energy flow between you and the water; it will reach out to you."_

Lee let out a deep breath and placed his palm flat over the water, letting his body relax as he reached for the energy inside him. Almost immediately he came up against the wall that he had sensed the first time he had tried to bend. There were no cracks, no weaknesses; just a solid barrier that tried to force him back, almost like a warning.

_This will hurt you_, it whispered. _You don't want to go past this point._

Yet even as he hesitated, he could sense the warmth and energy trapped on the other side, like a flood of power waiting to be unleashed. It was so close, so tempting. Another deep breath, and then he was pushing at the barrier with his consciousness, chipping away at the layers, even as tendrils of pain pierced through his mind, trying to turn him back.

_Stop!_ a small voice cried—his own. _You don't want to do this. You have to stop._

But he didn't. He kept on pushing until he could feel the warmth slipping through the cracks he had created; until he could feel his fingers tingling with heat and power, just like when he had woken from his dream. Something was there beneath his skin, wanting to be released. He could feel it building within him, like a ball of radiant energy that just kept growing and growing. It was exhilarating, terrifying, but it was also painful. His head throbbed from the effort of trying to keep the pathways open, and he could feel the needles digging into his mind becoming sharper and thicker, like shards of glass splintering into his thoughts.

_Stop!_ the small voice pleaded.

And this time he had no choice. He collapsed to his knees with a gasp, slipping under the surface of the river so that he found himself choking on a mouthful of water. Panic froze his limbs, his thoughts; this feeling of watery suffocation was too familiar. But then instinct kicked in and he planted his feet on the rocky bottom, forcing his body to stand so that he could breathe again, even as he coughed and spat out the water that had got into his throat. He was trembling all over, and his head was still pulsing in a disorientating tattoo, but he somehow managed to stumble back to the shallows. Then he just sat there on the shore, breathing deeply and trying to stop the dizzy turning in his head.

"Lee!" a voice called from the direction of the campsite. "Hey, Lee!"

It was Sokka.

Lee cursed as the sound of the boy's footsteps got closer. He scrambled over to his belongings and slipped the mask over his face, then made a grab for his clothes. He had just finished securing his undergarments around his hips when the Water Tribe boy emerged from the trees. There was an awkward moment as the two of them stood there staring at each other, and then Sokka let out a snort of laughter.

"You really do wear that mask all the time."

Lee said nothing and bent down to pick up his pants, brushing the dirt off the cotton and, in general, just acting as if the other boy didn't exist. Sokka was not so easily dismissed, however, and continued to watch Lee through those bright blue eyes of his that marked him as Water Tribe—eyes that right now glinted with a hint of suspicion, as if an unpleasant idea had just occurred to the boy.

"Why are you so worried about us seeing your face, anyway?" Sokka asked. "With the way you carry on, you'd think that you really were trying to hide something. I mean, you don't even take it off to eat."

"I'm not hiding anything!" Lee snapped with a bit more anger than was necessary. "I just don't feel comfortable without the mask on, alright?"

Sokka held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Alright, alright. I was just making an observation. Sheesh."

Lee rolled his eyes and tugged on his pants, ignoring the way the cloth stuck to and chafed against his damp skin. "What do you want, anyway?" he demanded, now slipping into his tunic and doing up the ties. "I told you I was just going to wash up."

The unspoken accusation lingered between them, and it had Sokka backing away and waving his arms in the universal gesture of denial.

"You think that I was—that I would—" he flailed a bit more and then finally seemed to find his voice. "I like _girls_! You know, breasts and long legs and, well, girls. Not boys." He appraised Lee from head to foot. "Besides, if I did paddle that way, I wouldn't bother with a pasty-skinned guy like you who just likes to hide behind a mask all the time."

"I'm wounded," Lee said dryly, and then he bent down to put on his boots. "So what _did_ you want?"

Sokka's expression cracked into a grin. "Well, since we've still got some time before Katara and Aang wake up, I was wondering if you wanted to have a little sparring match. Your swords against my weapons."

Lee observed the other boy shrewdly from behind the slits of his mask. He thought he had an idea of what this was about. They both fought like non-benders, were perhaps around the same age, and both instinctively took charge whenever it came to deciding what the group should do next. It was no wonder that Sokka was feeling threatened or that he felt the need to test his strength against Lee's. This wasn't about a friendly sparring match; this was about determining the alpha male.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Lee said bluntly, picking up his sheathed dao blades and slinging the strap over his shoulder. "Broadswords aren't toys; you could get hurt."

Sokka raised his chin. "Hey, maybe you'll be the one who gets hurt. Water Tribe weapons aren't toys either, you know." He puffed out his chest. "And I am the best warrior from my village."

Lee raised his eyebrow—not that Sokka could see his expression. "You really want to fight me that much?"

"Why are you so determined _not_ to fight me?" Sokka countered, and his mouth curved into a sly grin. "You aren't scared you'll lose, are you?"

Again, Lee observed the boy with a measuring gaze, weighing up whether the challenge was worth accepting. Then he just sighed. "Fine," he muttered, removing his twin blades from the scabbard and holding the hilts in a deceptively loose grasp, "but don't think I'm going to go easy on you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Sokka responded, pulling out his battle club and taking up a fighting stance.

Blue locked with shadowed gold as the boys circled around each other, and then Sokka charged with a yell, raising his club high. Quick as a flash, Lee side-stepped the attack and then swung round in an arc of steel, knocking the club out of Sokka's hands and sticking the tip of one blade to his throat. Sokka gave a nervous laugh and took a step backwards, holding his hands out in a warding gesture.

"Best of three?" he suggested, reaching for his jawbone dagger.

Lee inclined his head in agreement, but underneath the mask a smug smile tugged at his lips. There was no way he was going to lose to someone so haphazard and—

Sokka suddenly lunged, bone dagger slashing out in a swift swipe. Lee's eyes widened and he brought the dual dao swords up like a shield, catching the dagger on the flat of his blades. He breathed in sharply and was about to shove the Water Tribe boy back when he felt a foot slip around his ankle, getting ready to yank him off balance.

_Oh, no you don't._

Shifting his stance, Lee instead hooked his foot around Sokka's and pulled back hard, making the Water Tribe warrior wobble. An elbow to the chest did the rest, sending the darker boy tumbling to the ground in a graceless heap of flushed cheeks and bruised limbs. Sokka didn't stay put for long and rolled to the side to avoid being immobilised, then leapt back to his feet to charge for another attack. Lee rolled his eyes as he got his swords ready. Didn't this idiot know that head-on attacks weren't going to work on him?

Just as Lee predicted, Sokka made a few obvious thrusts with his dagger—all of which were easily dodged—and then performed a wild lunge that might have ended the match had the darker boy been a little faster. As it was, Lee managed to deflect the move with his swords and then moved in on the offensive, slashing in a whirlwind of steel that drove his opponent back further and further. There was no way that Sokka could win. The dual dao swords had the longer reach, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that Lee was by far the better warrior, being both faster and more skilled with his weapons.

Inevitably, Sokka found himself flat on his back again. In one fluid motion Lee had his knee pressed into the boy's stomach to keep him down, then held one blade close enough to slit his opponent's throat if needed.

"You lose," he said calmly.

Sokka made an odd noise that sounded like 'meep'. Lee smiled beneath the cover of his mask. No matter his indifference towards being perceived as the leader of the group, he couldn't deny that it was satisfying to have won this little battle of strength. He wasn't the type to brag, however, and simply stood up and joined his swords together so that they were of one blade. Then he reached down to help Sokka back to his feet.

"Thanks," Sokka said, accepting the proffered hand, though his voice was edged with disappointment. Clearly, he had not expected to lose quite so badly.

Lee just nodded and was about to sheath his swords when Sokka held out his hand.

"Wait," he said. "How about one more match?"

A half-suppressed sigh. "Look, I really don't think—"

"Aw, c'mon," Sokka interrupted, and his mouth curved into another sly grin. "I still have one more weapon to try."

Lee shrugged. Well, if the Water Tribe boy loved the taste of defeat so much, who was he to deny him?

"Very well," he said, readying his swords. "Give me your best shot."

Blue eyes alit with glee. "Oh, I will. Let's see how you dodge this!"

Sokka reached behind him and removed his boomerang from its holster, throwing it as hard as he could. Lee ducked the whistling flash of metal and then just stared at Sokka with a frown. That was it? That was the boy's grand attack? He hadn't even been able to land a hit, and now he had no weapon to defend himself.

That was when Lee realised that Sokka was still grinning—and when he heard the strange whistling noise get louder. His head gave a sudden throb. Why did this feel so familiar? And why did every instinct tell him to duck again?

Too late. Something smacked into the back of his head, making his skull throb in quite a different manner as pain assailed his nerves from the impact. He couldn't even bring himself to keep hold of his swords, instead letting them clatter harmlessly to the ground. Sokka laughed and said something about his "trusty boomerang", but Lee wasn't really listening. He just groaned and ran a tentative hand over the damaged area on his head, feeling a lump already forming where the weapon had struck. A hiss escaped his lips when his fingers brushed too hard against the spot. Yep, that was going to be one hell of a bruise.

Apparently, someone else wasn't too pleased with Sokka's boomerang trick either. Katara stood on the outskirts of the trees with her mouth agape and her eyes wide. Then she narrowed her gaze on Sokka.

"Are you insane?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips. "Why did you attack him?"

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck. "We were just sparring," he responded, though he looked a bit sheepish. "It was just a friendly match—nothing serious."

"You hit him in the head with your boomerang!"

"Yeah, so?"

"He has amnesia! You don't hit an amnesiac in the head, you blubber-headed dolt! It might make things worse, and—"

"Katara," Lee said, cutting her tirade short, "I'm okay. Really," he added when she continued to look at him doubtfully.

Sokka flashed a grin. "You see, Katara. He's fine. Now stop your—"

"Stop my what?" she interjected. "You could have really hurt him, Sokka!" She folded her arms under her breasts. "Honestly, what maggot got into both of your heads to make you think that it would be a good idea to spar with each other? Can't you see that it's dangerous?"

"Seemed a good way to pass the time," her brother said with a shrug.

Lee just winced and touched the pulsing lump on his head, thinking that it hadn't turned out to be such a great time for him. Combined with his usual headache, his skull felt like it was being split in two—not that he would say as much aloud. That would be showing weakness, and he'd already displayed enough of that after his little breakdown in Omashu. Unfortunately, hawk-eyes Katara did not miss his subtle shift in expression.

"You are hurt!" she exclaimed, as if he had committed some dangerous crime. "Let me see!"

He held his hands up in a defensive gesture, trying to ward her off. "Really, Katara, it's just a bruise. It'll go away on its own, so there's no need for you to—"

"Oh, hush," she scolded, swatting away his hands and then placed her own on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her level. "Now hold still."

Lee did. Mostly because her palms were smooth and soft on his skin, and she was much, much too close, and he really didn't know what to make of so much _girl_ all up in his space. In fact, it was quite discomforting, filling him with an odd urge to shove her away. It was almost as if some primal part of his mind had been switched on by her touching him; he felt twitchy and edgy, as if he were afraid that she was going to attack him any second. Then her fingers slid through his hair, searching for any signs of damage, and he experienced quite different sensations. It was soothing, somehow. Familiar.

_There was a woman stroking his hair with soft fingers. He could feel her heart beating against his cheek, and he let out a little sigh as he snuggled more against her warm body. She smelt like flowers and spices. She smelt like home._

"_Sleep, dear one," she murmured, still keeping up the rhythmic stroking. "Sleep now. I'll watch over you."_

He gasped as pain lanced through his mind like lightning. Katara pulled her hands back in alarm.

"What's wrong, Lee?" she asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he muttered, conscious of the way his heart pounded in a fluttery rush in his chest. "I just—I just remembered something, that's all."

His mother. He had remembered his mother, even though he couldn't see her face or, indeed, had any real idea of what she looked like beyond dark hair and amber eyes. But he knew it was her; the truth tingled in every fibre of his body, every beat of his heart. His mother had held him, comforted him, and it was then that he realised she was the same woman who had once told him that he was someone who kept fighting, even when it was hard. She had been proud of him. Somehow, that just distressed him even more.

"It really hurts you, doesn't it?"

He glanced down at Katara, who was still watching him in concern. "What do you mean?"

"Remembering your past," she clarified. "I can see that it pains you."

Lee said nothing. Yes, it hurt, but it wasn't just the physical pain that bothered him. Every memory left his heart aching in feelings that he could not comprehend, like the sluggish nerve responses to a limb that has been numb for too long and is then forced to move again. It was too much for him to handle at once. Too much joy. Too much loss. It left him confused and drained, for none of those people in his memories were with him now. What had gone wrong? Was it his fault? Their fault?

"You don't have to keep it all bottled in, you know," Katara said quietly. "I know this must be hard for you, and—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered, averting his gaze.

"But—"

"Just leave him, Katara," Sokka advised, leaning against a tree and picking at his teeth with his finger. "A man needs his space. We don't do the weepy, heart-to-heart thing. Isn't that right, Lee?"

Lee nodded at the other boy, grateful for the interruption.

"Fine," Katara huffed, "but you can at least let me heal that bruise on your head."

He knew better than to argue this time and allowed her to place glowing palms on the protruding lump, where she used her element to manipulate his chi into healing his injury faster. Soon, the nasty throbbing was just a dull pulse, and then it was gone altogether. Katara smiled and stepped back, guiding the water swirling around her arm into the pouch tied to her waist.

"Thanks," he said, running his fingers over the healed patch of skin.

Her smile widened. "Any time."

Lee nodded in acknowledgement and then turned to collect his swords when a small hand latched around his arm. He glanced down at the waterbender in surprise, wondering what she wanted now.

"I am here if you ever want to talk, you know," she said in a low voice, so that only he could hear. "I realise we barely know each other, but I do want to help you, if you will let me."

He gently disengaged her hand from his sleeve. "Thanks, but I don't think you can help me with this."

Katara frowned and looked as if she wanted to say more, but Lee didn't wait for her response. He gathered up his dropped dao blades and sheathed them in the scabbard strapped to his back, then headed towards the campsite without a further word. He knew that she had meant well, but he was not the sharing type and had no desire to lay his fears before some girl whom he had only known for a few days. Besides, he doubted she would be quite so forthcoming with her offers to aid him if she knew that he was from the Fire Nation. No, it was best that he just keep his distance and focus on finding the truth about the path of the ancient ways. Then he could leave the Avatar and Water Tribe siblings to their own mission and just get on with his life.

He didn't like to dwell on why this made him feel strangely empty.

**oOo**

After a breakfast of leftovers and berries, the group packed up their belongings and piled on top of Appa. It was not long before a small argument arose about where they should head next. All agreed that they needed to find an earthbending teacher for Aang, as well as information about the path of the ancient ways for Lee, but deciding on a specific location, let alone direction, proved much more difficult.

"You can't just keep flying around aimlessly and expect an earthbender to drop down from the sky onto Appa's saddle," Lee said bluntly. "You need a plan."

"We do have a plan," Sokka retorted. "We keep heading southwest until we reach the next town. Then we stop and investigate. If that place can't help us, then we move onto the next one. Problem solved."

"And what if that place is being occupied by the Fire Nation?" Lee countered. "You just can't go wandering into towns with the intent of finding a master for the Avatar and expect there not to be repercussions. People are looking for you, and they're bound to take more notice if you start asking suspicious questions."

"Then what do you suggest we do, oh-wise-one?" Sokka responded in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Guys, please," Aang protested mildly from his perch on Appa's head, "you don't need to argue."

"You're right, Aang," Sokka agreed, "and that's why we're going to keep heading southwest." He stared at Lee challengingly, daring the masked warrior to state otherwise.

Lee folded his arms. "Look, all I'm saying is that we need to be cautious. You guys aren't exactly subtle about the fact that you're travelling with the Avatar, and that's just asking for trouble. Besides, you'd probably do better focussing on the towns in the South. There aren't many major settlements in the Southwest aside from Omashu, and you already know you're not going to find anything there."

Sokka raised his eyebrows. "Well-travelled, are you?"

Lee shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know, but I _do_ know that you'd have better luck in a place like Gaoling if you're looking for an earthbender master; it is the home of the Earth Rumble tournaments, after all."

The Water Tribe siblings stared at him blankly.

"Right, I guess you don't know what that is," Lee said, rubbing the base of his neck.

There was another awkward pause.

"Anyway," Sokka said, changing the subject, "we're already heading southwest, so we might as well continue with the original plan. If our search proves unfruitful there, we'll head south like you suggested."

"I agree with Sokka," Aang stated in his calm way. "I don't know why, but I feel like I need to keep going in this direction. Appa feels it too, don't you, boy?"

The bison gave a low rumble, which may or may not have been a sign of affirmation.

"Well, I guess that's settled," Katara said in a business-like tone. "If Aang feels we should keep heading southwest, then we'll keep heading southwest."

Lee nodded in acquiescence, knowing there was no point in arguing further. For all he knew they might be right and the Southwest would prove to be the best destination for achieving their goals. It wasn't as if he had all the answers; he was just a masked amnesiac with no name and no idea how he knew any of the things that he did. It was amazing that they even trusted him to travel with them, let alone his judgement, though he sometimes had his doubts about Sokka. It seemed the Water Tribe boy couldn't decide whether he viewed Lee as a friend or a rival. Not that it mattered. They'd go their separate ways eventually, and that would be the end of it.

He sighed and rested his elbows on the edge of the saddle, watching the forests and mountains flash by in blurs of green and brown. Momo came and settled on his lap, and he absently ran his fingers through the fur on the lemur's back, feeling strangely soothed by the little purring noises his companion made. His mind was such a jumble lately, but there was something comforting about the weight of that warm bundle on his lap. Something that reminded him of Zhuā.

"_What are you doing up there, Dum-Dum? Do you want to get yourself hurt?"_

Lee's mind throbbed with pain as images flittered through his mind, showing him a boy climbing atop a high roof to rescue a monkey-cat. Someone was screaming his name, but it was too late. He was falling, falling, helpless against the force of gravity that dragged him down into a world of pain and darkness. So much darkness.

A blur of time and space, of fiery cocoons and the smell of healing herbs. Then there were new voices; two women speaking in hushed whispers, as if they were afraid of being overheard.

"_It's not natural. I saw the bruises and they just disappeared right before my eyes. Even his bones are mending at a pace too quick to be normal."_

"_Then it is as we feared. My son is a healer."_

"_What will you do? You know what will happen to him if they find out."_

"_We will have to watch him. Make sure he doesn't—"_

Someone was shaking his shoulders. "Lee."

He groaned softly.

"Lee, wake up."

Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw the Avatar leaning over him. A wide grin spread across the boy's face.

"You're okay!" he exclaimed, moving back to sit cross-legged on the grass.

"What happened?" Lee asked, sitting up and holding a hand to his swimming head. He felt dizzy and sick, like he was going to collapse again at any moment.

"You fell out of the saddle," Aang said with a frown. "Gave us all a fright, to be honest."

"Oh."

Lee didn't know what else to say. It was humiliating to think that he had broken down in front of them like that again. They must think he was so weak, and he could only be grateful that Sokka and Katara weren't there right then to see him struggling to stay upright. Speaking of which, where were the Water Tribe siblings? He gazed around at his surroundings, noting that he and the airbender were in some kind of meadow. Appa was not far from them, munching on the long grass with gusto.

"Sokka and Katara have gone to see if they can find any more food to go with lunch," Aang said, as if he had read Lee's thoughts. "I offered to stay with you to make sure you were okay."

"Right."

The silence stretched between them. Aang twiddled his thumbs and cast tentative looks at the masked warrior. Lee folded his hands on his lap and watched Appa move to a new patch of grass. Neither seemed eager to speak, but then—

"Was it the memories again?" Aang asked after a moment.

Lee glanced back at the boy. "What?"

"When you fell. Was it the memories?"

"I—" Lee swallowed and stared down at his hands; then he just nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Lee said, shaking his head. "I'm the one who's messed up."

Aang hugged his knees to his chest. For a long moment he didn't say anything, and then he just sighed. "This isn't at all how I thought it would be."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Aang said a little sadly. "It's nothing."

A crease formed on Lee's brow. The kid was definitely hiding something, but before he could demand a further explanation, Momo landed in between them with a flutter of white wings and chirruped happily as he showed off his prize (a half-eaten bug). Lee glanced up to see Sokka and Katara following in tow across the meadow, with the Water Tribe boy loudly boasting about the fish he had caught, while his sister carried a pouch of fruit and nuts. Then the conversation was all about how Lee was feeling, and whether he wanted to rest for a while longer, and so many other questions of concern that he began to feel a little suffocated.

He excused himself from the group at the first chance he got and went to stand by Appa, giving the bison an absent pat on his shaggy head. These people were so impossible, just like Fei. They didn't even know him, and yet—and yet—

"And yet they seem to genuinely care," he murmured.

His gaze shifted back to the airbender, and for a moment their eyes met. Lee wondered what the boy had meant when he'd said that things hadn't gone the way he'd thought that they would. Aang had offered him friendship once; he'd also admitted that they had not been allies when Lee had first healed him.

_And you are a healer._

Yes, he knew that now. No matter how impossible it seemed for him to call upon his energy, he was definitely a healer. So why did the thought that he could bend make his stomach sink with such terrible dread?

Lee's fingers tightened on the white fur as he stared into those sad grey eyes. Well, perhaps there was one person who could give him some answers. The airbender was definitely omitting some kind of information from him, and he would not rest until he discovered the truth. He would not give up without a fight.


	19. Games and Illusions

Thanks again to the anonymous and unsigned reviewers! For Ayla-tan, ak, and Jesus4eva, you can find a full reply to your reviews on the LJ discussion forum linked on my profile. Whether you read those or not is up to you, but know that I very much appreciated your comments!

As for "Guest's" question about Mai, you'll remember that Zuko did have a moment of recognition when they fought in Omashu, but he has not been able to place her in his memories. I know lots of people are fans of the idea that they dated before he was banished, but in my head-canon I always just saw it as an unfulfilled crush (that was obviously later fulfilled when they met up again). That's not to say that Mai isn't important to Zuko; I just don't feel a girl he knew only as Azula's friend deserves extra precedence when he can barely remember his own uncle. ^_~

* * *

**Games and Illusions **

Mai spared a disparaging glance for the wares being offered on display. The dresses were all shades of greens, pale yellows and browns. Most of them were also floral. How quaint. Her lip curled ever so slightly, and she moved on to the next stall, keeping an eye and ear out for any sign of her quarry and wondering not for the first time how it was that her life had come to this. If she had wanted to stroll around peasant markets that pretended to be upscale, looking at obnoxiously colourful Earth Kingdom clothes and gaudy jewellery, she could have stayed in Omashu—oh, sorry, New Ozai—with her family. But apparently the old general _enjoyed_ shopping, and it was a fact that much gossip could be heard in a market.

_Yes, like how Peng got the butcher's daughter knocked up and was now refusing to marry the girl._

Such were the joys of peasants' gossip. Such was Mai's torture.

Heaving a weary sigh, she continued to make her way down the market lane, repressing shudders at objects that were particularly heinous to her, and repressing even more eye rolls at the tedious conversations she was forced to overhear. A gleam of interest lit her eyes as she spotted the blacksmith's shop. Now that looked more promising. She weaved her way through the crowd to examine the projectile weapons, ignoring the smithy's greetings and attempts at conversation. When he tried to direct her to the more ornamental weapons, which he insisted were more suitable for a lady, Mai threw him a flat, dark look—a look that she maintained until he was fidgeting nervously and excused himself to deal with the other customers.

The tiniest of smiles graced her lips before she went back to examining the dagger in her hand. As it happened, two Fire Nation soldiers were standing beside the neighbouring display wall, looking at swords and talking amongst themselves. She paid little attention to them at first, but her hearing had always been good, and she couldn't help but glance up when she heard Prince Zuko's name. An unfamiliar ache prodded at her heart as she thought of the handsome boy with the pale gold eyes, but she pushed the feelings aside and instead focussed on what the men were saying.

"I thought he had been assassinated," the one on the right stated. "His ship got blown up and everything. Rumours are that it was pirates."

The other man, who had a ridiculously large moustache, shook his head. "My cousin is part of Princess Azula's firebender entourage, and he told me that they found the prince half-dead in the ocean about three weeks after the siege in the North; in fact, it was Shu who hauled the prince up out of the water."

"But then—"

"How did he die?" Moustache Man finished for him, anticipating the question.

The other nodded. Mai edged closer as the soldier's voice dropped to a low hush.

"It was the princess," Moustache Man said, casting a wary look around, as if he were afraid Azula might appear any moment and punish him for speaking of the subject. "Struck him right in the chest with lightning, she did, and off goes the prince overboard. They never found the body, but that doesn't matter. No one can survive an attack like that." He shook his head. "It's all being kept very hush, hush, of course. The prince was only supposed to be taken back to the Fire Nation to be kept out of the way, so I heard, but you know the princess. She doesn't tolerate people challenging her authority very well."

Mai's fingers tightened on the dagger. No, she knew that all too well.

"I can't believe she would kill her own brother," the other soldier murmured, looking both shocked and horrified.

Moustache Man frowned. "Hey, mind you don't go repeating this. We all know what those royals are like, and I'd rather not put Shu's head on the line. The established story is that the prince tried to escape and drowned, got it?"

Mai didn't wait for the soldier's response and released the dagger she had been clutching, barely hearing it clatter against the display cabinet as she walked away from the blacksmith's shop. Her expression and gait were composed, but inside she was a twisting storm of emotions. Anger, fear, sadness; she could feel it all inside her, battering against her ribs and screaming for release. Azula had killed Zuko. _Azula_ had killed Zuko. The words were a chant in her mind, echoing over and over again.

A blur of pink suddenly appeared before her vision, and she blinked to see Ty Lee smiling up at her.

"There you are!" the bubbly girl greeted. "Azula wants us to report back to camp."

"Finally," Mai said with perfected weariness, not revealing a hint of her inner turmoil. "If I have to listen to one more conversation about how the pig-chickens aren't breeding so well this month, I'm going to be sick."

Ty Lee giggled. "At least we got to shop around a bit, and look at this cute hat I got given!" She shoved a pale yellow nightmare at Mai's face, who simply took one look at it and then gave her friend a flat stare.

"I thought you don't like hats. You always said they get in the way of your plait and ruin the natural bounciness of your hair, or whatever."

"But the tailor's son was such a cutie!" Ty Lee exclaimed, as if this explained everything. "I couldn't just refuse his gift."

Mai rolled her eyes. "Right."

Ty Lee didn't seem troubled by her friend's sarcasm and instead started walking on her hands, apparently deciding that feet just weren't doing the trick for her. "So, did you get any leads?"

"Only if you want to know about how Peng has got the butcher's daughter knocked up and now refuses to marry her."

Ty Lee let out another giggle. "Sounds serious."

"Oh, it is," Mai responded, but her wry amusement faded a second later as she thought of what else she had learned during her sojourn in the market. Without even thinking about it, she slowed to a halt. "Ty Lee."

"Mm?"

"What did Azula tell you about what happened to Zuko?"

Ty Lee flipped back to her feet, and her ever-smiling lips drooped into a frown. "She didn't say much. Just that he drowned."

Mai's jaw tightened a fraction. "She told me the same."

"I still find it hard to believe," Ty Lee said softly. "I mean, I know he was banished and all, but he was our friend too, you know? It just doesn't seem right." She paused and glanced up at Mai, hesitating a moment. "You are—you are doing okay, aren't you? I know we haven't really had a chance to talk about—"

"I'm fine," Mai interjected in an expressionless voice.

"But—"

"I haven't seen Zuko for three years, Ty Lee. I'm hardly cherishing a broken heart now."

The words were cold, but that was what Mai intended. She tried to ignore the look of surprise, even disappointment, that flashed in her friend's grey eyes. It was better this way—much easier for her to deal with since she had never liked to wear her emotions on her sleeve or have heart-to-hearts. Besides, she had only been honest. Her crush on Zuko might have seemed everlasting when she was twelve, but then he had got banished; he had vanished for three years, and all her feelings had got mixed up in the process. She didn't know what she felt for him now, but she did know that she hated the fact that Azula had been the one to kill him.

She hated the fact that Azula had lied to her.

"Come on," Mai said, striding ahead. "Let's get back to camp. You know Azula doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Ty Lee could not argue with this statement, though it was obvious that she was still bursting with questions. The brunette had enough tact to keep her thoughts to herself, however, for which Mai could only be grateful. She was already regretting bringing up the subject of Zuko, no matter her desire to know if she was the only one who had been lied to, because she _did_ care about what had happened to the prince, and that was a dangerous thing. Mai had learnt long ago that feelings were better kept hidden; they had to be protected and locked away, because feelings could get you hurt. Especially when you were friends with Azula. The princess had always loved to play games.

Perhaps that was why Mai wasn't surprised when she was later summoned to Azula's tent for a 'friendly chat'. She should have known that Ty Lee wouldn't be able to resist telling the princess of their discussion. Not that Ty Lee would have realised the significance of what she had done; her motives would have been innocent. Mai could almost hear the perky brunette's words:

"_I'm really worried about Mai. She was asking about Zuko earlier, and—"_

And then Azula would smile that sharp little smile, because unlike Ty Lee, she would know that Mai would not bring up the subject of Zuko's death for no reason. She would know that Mai must have heard something in the market—something that might just reflect back on the princess in a poor light. So Mai had been summoned, and now they sat facing each other in the grand tent, sipping tea and pretending as if they weren't trying to pick each other's brains apart. As if this wasn't really an interrogation but the friendly chat Azula had claimed.

"You know, Mai," Azula remarked, once the initial pleasantries were out of the way and it became obvious that the non-bender wasn't going to make the first move, "I don't believe you gave me a full report of the information you gathered in the marketplace today, did you?"

Mai placed her teacup down on the table. "I told you that I found no leads. That's the truth."

Azula examined her fingernails. "Yes, but I'm not talking about new leads."

"The rest was just peasant gossip." An indifferent shrug. "I didn't think you would be interested in that."

"And what about soldier gossip?"

Light brown eyes locked with amber. "I didn't think you would be interested in that either."

Azula smiled in satisfaction and relaxed back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she took another sip of her tea. She let the silence linger between them, perhaps hoping to make the non-bender squirm and fall into the trap of revealing her true thoughts. But Mai had been playing this game for a long time, and she knew that she was not as cornered as the princess wanted her to think. As such, she simply picked up her cup and took a sip of her own tea, waiting for the next move to be made. She didn't have to wait long.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me yet," Azula said after a moment, watching Mai closely.

"Asked you what?"

"Whether it's true." Her voice was cold and precise. "Whether I actually killed my brother."

"What difference does it make?" Mai responded flatly. "He's dead now regardless."

"You're right. He is dead." Azula went back to examining her nails. "Still, I admit that I thought you would show a bit more emotion than this. From what I remember, you used to be quite taken with poor little Zuzu."

Mai gave another of her indifferent shrugs. "That was a long time ago. Your brother was banished, and I heard he was later labelled a traitor to the Fire Nation before his death. Why should I care about him?"

"Why indeed?"

There was a pregnant pause. They were getting to the heart of the matter now, for Mai had known from the moment she had been summoned that this was not about whether Azula had killed Zuko or not; this was about discovering where Mai's loyalties lay. Just like it had always been between them. Just like it had been when Azula had suggested that Mai shouldn't trade Tom-Tom for the earthbender king, because Tom-Tom was _Mai's_ little brother, and the princess couldn't help but prod and push to see how far her friend's loyalty would go, even though any sane person could see that such tests were unfair and unnecessary. Even though they had both known that refusing would have meant even more complications for Mai (as Ty Lee herself could attest to after her circus act became a desperate struggle to survive).

So Mai did not admit that hearing about Zuko's death had upset her. She did not admit that she didn't like the fact that Azula had killed the prince in what sounded like to be cold blood. She simply drank the last of her tea and then placed the empty cup on the table.

"Are we finished?" she asked with a weary sigh. "I know Zuko was your brother, but talking about dead people isn't exactly my idea of an interesting conversation."

Azula's mouth curved into a sharp little smile. "Of course. I won't keep you up any longer. Goodnight, Mai."

Mai stood up and placed her palms together, giving a slight bow. "Goodnight, Princess Azula."

When she finally left the tent, she was surprised to find that her hands were shaking. During her time spent away from Azula, she had almost forgot how draining the princess could be with her manipulation games; forgot how much she had loathed and dreaded the endless, endless tests. Mai had just remembered the good times that they had shared together; the freedom she had been given when Azula had forced her parents to realise that their daughter was an expert with projectile weapons and shouldn't have to hide her talents. But now those rose-tinted glasses were gone. Now Mai remembered exactly why Ty Lee had run away to join the circus; why she herself had been secretly relieved when the Fire Lord had given her father governorship over Omashu, or New Ozai. Whatever.

Maybe it had been boring living with her parents in that Earth Kingdom hellhole, but at least Mai had never been made to feel threatened simply for having a heart. At least she hadn't been forced to truly cover up her emotions for fear that they could be used against her. The worst part, however, was the knowledge that there was no way to take back her impulsive decision to join her friends. One did not refuse the princess of the Fire Nation, not unless one had a death sentence. Everyone was expendable to Azula—even her own brother, it seemed.

By the time Mai reached the tent that she shared with Ty Lee, her hands were still shaking.

**oOo**

Momo was chittering again. Lee glanced over the side of the saddle to where the lemur was looking and saw a large expanse of swampland below. He didn't understand why the swamp seemed to distress the furry creature, but then he also didn't understand why Momo enjoyed eating bugs. As such, Lee dismissed the matter from his mind and reclined back against the saddle, though he was careful not to lean too far back, not wanting a repeat of last time. His cheeks felt hot with shame just thinking about his little breakdown, and he hated how the others seemed to be watching him all the time now, as if they were wondering when he was next going to have one of his 'crazy memory episodes', as Sokka called them.

"_The boy is weak. He was lucky to even be born."_

Lee closed his eyes, blocking out the cruel, unfeeling voice that haunted his nightmares. He didn't realise that he had tensed up until a hand touched his arm.

"Hey, are you alright?"

He blinked to see Katara kneeling in front of him with a concerned expression on her face. No doubt she thought that he was about to fall off the saddle again. Because he _was_ weak. Because he just couldn't seem to keep it together. An angry, bitter swell of emotion bubbled inside him, and he shrugged off her touch and looked the other way.

"I'm fine."

"Lee—"

"I said I'm fine!" he growled, glaring back at her. "You don't need to coddle me like a baby! You're not my mother, and I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, so just drop it!"

She let her hand fall back to her side, biting her lip and looking more than a little hurt at his outburst. Lee didn't even need to look to know that Sokka and Aang were both staring at him, perhaps wondering why he had suddenly started shouting. Something twisted in his stomach, tangling into knots of guilt. Damn it, why did he always have to lose his temper?

"I'm sorry," he said in a much softer voice. "I didn't mean—I'm just—" He sighed and lowered his head. "I just need some space, okay?"

Katara stared at him for a long moment. "Okay," she said quietly, "but, Lee—"

He glanced up at her.

"I wasn't trying to coddle you." A faint smile curved her lips. "I was just trying to be your friend. That's what we do; we look out for each other."

Lee didn't know how to respond to that, so he just nodded and then went back to looking at the swampland, stating through his averted face and posture that the conversation was over. Katara took the hint and retreated to the opposite corner of the saddle to resume reading her waterbending scrolls, though he could feel her gaze flickering towards him from time to time. A small breath escaped his lips. These people really were so impossible; so insistent on viewing him as a friend, as if they had known him for years instead of just a few days. It didn't make sense. _They_ didn't make sense, but then—

His gaze darted to the boy perched on Appa's head. In his mind, he could see the clearing; see the blood stains on his hands from where he had healed the monk, and the shy smile that had started it all.

"_If we knew each other back then … do you think we could have been friends, too?"_

Lee clenched his hands into fists. He had not got the chance to confront Aang yet about their real history together. In fact, it was almost as if the monk was avoiding him—not in the sense that Aang refused to speak to Lee, but getting a private conversation with the airbender was like trying to capture the wind; no matter how much Lee tried, he was always left grasping at nothing. Somehow, he got the feeling that this wasn't a rare occurrence.

It was in that moment that Lee realised they were descending at a rapid rate. Sokka glanced up from where he had been sharpening his machete, also puzzled as to what Appa was doing.

"Hey, Aang," Sokka called, "is there a reason you're taking us down?"

The airbender said nothing, nor did he so much as twitch to show that he had heard. Lee and Sokka exchanged a confused glance, and then the Water Tribe boy was standing up and moving towards the spaced out monk.

"Aang!" Sokka tried again. "Why are you taking us down?"

The younger boy flinched and then turned to look at Sokka. "What?" He wiped the sweat from his brow. "I didn't even notice."

Sokka pointed at the swamp, which was drawing closer. "Are you noticing now?"

Katara packed her scrolls away and came to stand beside her brother. "Is something wrong?"

Aang was quiet for a moment. "I know this might sound weird, but I think the swamp is calling me."

Lee straightened. "What do you mean _calling you_?"

The younger boy got a far-away look in his eyes, as if he could hear a voice whispering to him. "I think—I think it wants us to land there."

"No offense to the swamp," Sokka interjected, "but I don't see any land down there _to_ land on."

"I don't know," Aang said slowly. "Bumi told me that, to learn earthbending, I would have to wait and listen, and now I'm actually hearing the earth. Do you want me to ignore it?"

Sokka stated yes quite emphatically, while Katara observed that there was something ominous about the swamp. Lee had to agree. Now that they were drawing closer, he could see how thick and impenetrable the place was with its wall of trees; how easy it would be to get lost. However, underneath his more pragmatic thoughts was a ripple of unease, like the random shiver that manifests itself in a cold caress down the spine. There was something down there, alright, and he didn't like the feel of it one bit.

"I think we should leave," Lee said, glancing at Aang. "Now."

"Lee's right," Sokka interposed, even as Momo started chittering and Appa let out a low groan. "Look, even Momo and Appa don't like it here."

Aang bit his lip. "Well, since everyone feels so strong about this—" he tugged on the reins, guiding them up towards the sky "—bye, swamp."

Lee let out a breath as Appa sped up, taking them further away from the impenetrable wall of trees and vines below. Before they could truly relax, however, a rush of noise sounded from behind them, as if the very sky had exhaled a large gust of air. The group in the saddle turned as one, each paling in turn as they saw the tornado speeding towards them.

"Aang," Sokka said fretfully, "you better throw an extra 'yip' in there. We've got to move!"

Lee gripped the side of the saddle, staring at the swirling force of air bearing down on them and wondering how it had even appeared. Tornados that big didn't just magically form out of nothing, and he couldn't help but notice that it seemed to be following them as well, gaining speed even as Aang urged Appa to go faster. It was almost as if—as if someone was controlling it. Like an airbender.

"_The Air Nomads were destroyed a hundred years ago. You will find nothing in these temples but empty ruins."_

"_Then we'll scour the world, searching even the most remote locations. I don't care how long it takes, Uncle. I will find the last airbender."_

A stab of pain lanced through his head, violent and pulsing. He was still struggling to get a hold of himself when the tornado crashed down on them, whipping at their faces with dagger-like slices of wind and practically sucking him out of the saddle. Sokka was not so lucky, and it was only through Katara's quick reflexes and Aang leaping up to create an air shield to surround the bison that the Water Tribe boy did not get dragged up into the storm. Lee gritted his teeth and held on tight as the ear-piercing roars of the tornado became muffled by the force of Aang's air barrier. For a moment he thought that they might even make it out of this mess, but then suddenly they were slipping out of the shield and it was back to screaming cries and ruthless hands of air that clutched and grasped; back to feeling like a fragile leaf barely clinging to its branch.

_Hold on!_ his mind chanted.

But it was too late. His hand slipped on the saddle, and then he was being yanked up into the air, tugged this way and that just like the leaf he had imagined. The wind was so powerful, so raw. He felt like he was going to be torn in two, but at last the tornado loosened its hold on him, tossing him aside like an unwanted rag doll. Then he was falling, falling, falling—just like with Zhuā when he was a child; just like after he had been struck with lightning by the Fire Nation princess.

Just like when a ship he had called home had exploded, plunging him into dark, icy waters.

Lee's eyes widened as the memories rushed through his mind, flickering in a disorientating blur of images and voices. He tumbled through the veil of trees, welcomed into the swamp's murky embrace, but it was so hard to separate reality from memory—so hard to determine if he was falling past tree and vine or tumbling towards an expanse of blue. His last conscious thought was of an old man in Fire Nation robes leaning over him, telling him that everything was going to be alright. Then the world went black.

**oOo**

"He's not here!"

Aang ran his hands over his head, trying to contain his panic. "He has to be here somewhere! Maybe if we just—"

Sokka gripped his arm, pulling him to a halt. "Aang, we've already searched everywhere. Lee isn't here. I know you're worried, but we're just going to be wasting our time if we stick around this area any longer. Maybe he's with Appa and Momo."

"Maybe," Aang said, but that didn't stop him from feeling anxious.

Zuko, or 'Lee' as he now had to call the prince, had seemed a bit more fragile and on edge ever since that weird breakdown during the fight in Omashu. Put simply, Aang was worried. Worried that the prince might be alone and hurt somewhere; worried that the memories were returning; worried that he was about to lose his friend all over again.

Not that Aang had ever truly got his friend back. It was something that he had realised while sitting with Lee in that meadow. The older teen had been right next to him, but Lee did not remember saving Aang from Pohuai Stronghold; Lee did not remember stopping flames from burning through tender flesh, nor comforting a boy who had hurt a girl with a reckless display of firebending. Lee did not remember fighting side by side against Zhao, or telling a boy in a cave that he just wanted to go home. All Lee could remember was an offer of friendship, but that meant nothing without the history that had led to that point. That meant nothing without the Fire Nation prince who had hunted Aang all over the world.

It was a cruel twist of irony. All Aang had wanted was another chance with Zuko—a clean slate to forget the anger and tears that had been their parting at the North Pole—but instead Aang had got this cheap copy of his friend. Because Lee was not Zuko. He could never be Zuko, and though he wore the mask of the Blue Spirit, he was no Masky either. Perhaps it was Aang's punishment for lying all of those times—for every omission of the truth. Aang didn't know. All he knew was that it made him sad and worried and so uncertain of what to do. He just wanted to stop pretending. He just wanted his friend back.

But all he had was Lee.

"Aang?"

He blinked and saw Katara looking at him in concern.

"You okay?" she asked.

Aang nodded. "Yeah. Let's go find the others."

Maybe he didn't know how to make Lee become Zuko again without making things worse between them, but Aang did know one thing: he was not about to lose anyone else. They would find Momo, Appa and the prince, and then they were going to get out of this swamp. He would make sure of it.

_Hang on, Zuko. We're coming for you._

**oOo**

Lee groaned and opened his eyes. A tilted view of trees and bushes greeted his vision, and he winced as he pushed himself to his knees, feeling his body protest in pain. No doubt many tree branches had tried to help cushion his fall—and scratched and bruised him along the way—but the fact that he was soaking wet did surprise him, since he had woken up on the marshy bank and not in the water. His heart quickened at the thought that perhaps he was not alone, but a quick survey of the clearing revealed no sign of another person. Nothing but trees and plants and swamp.

Frowning, he got to his feet and made sure that he had everything he needed. Dao swords were still strapped to his back, and he could feel his dagger tucked into its usual place in his boot. Good. His mask was covering his face, and stunk like swamp—ugh. Lee pulled it off and let the excess bits of water trickle out from beneath the mask, then slipped the disguise back over his head. He might be alone for now, but there was no saying when he would run into the others. Best not to take his chances. Lastly, he checked the inside of his tunic for the Pai Sho tile, note, and water flask. All were still in place, though the note was so bedraggled and faded that the words were barely legible.

His eyes narrowed on the tile as a flicker of memory teased at his thoughts. He flipped the tile over on his palm, examining the flower etched onto the other side. "A white lotus," he murmured.

Once again, the image of the old man in the Fire Nation robes flickered in his mind, except this time the man was sitting at a table with a Pai Sho board set up on top.

"_It seems I've lost my lotus tile."  
_

"_Lotus tile?"  
_

"_For my Pai Sho game. Most people think the lotus tile insignificant, but it is essential for the unusual strategy that I employ."_

Lee sucked in a sharp breath and stared at the tile resting on his palm as if seeing it for the first time. Bits and pieces of memory were at last beginning to connect together, but then something gave a loud screech from deep within the trees, shaking him from his thoughts, and the moment was gone. He grunted in frustration and stuffed the tile back inside his tunic, thinking that he would have to ponder over the matter later. Right now, he just needed to focus on getting out of this swamp.

"So," he muttered, looking around the clearing, "which way do I go?"

A crease formed on his brow as he looked at the barricade of trees and leafy plants. It was going to be a nightmare trying to cut his way through that, but then he saw the hint of a path to his left, which didn't look quite as choked with trees or impassable. Deciding that would do, he pushed his way through the vines and started the slow trudge through the swamp. He also tried not to think about the fact that he felt as if he was being watched. The swamp was unsettling enough without adding invisible eyes to the equation.

Lee let out a hiss as his foot slid into a particularly boggy part of the swamp. Spirits, he hated this place, and it didn't get any better as he continued walking. The vines and trees impeded his path, while bubbles of swamp gas that stunk like dead things mixed with mud got into his nostrils and mouth, practically choking him on the nauseating fumes. By the time the sky had darkened—though it was difficult to tell with the veil of trees overhead—a thick fog had set in and Lee was wishing that he could hurry up and find the others so that he could get the hell out of this place.

That was when he saw the boy emerging from the mist.

It was like watching a wraith form from wisps of colour, blending to form a blur of red and black, yet there was no denying the boy's physical presence—or that he was advancing to where Lee was standing. Without a second thought, Lee unsheathed his dual dao swords and held them out in an offensive stance.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Are you the one who's been following me?"

It was the only explanation for why he felt like he was being watched all the time, but the boy offered him no answer and continued to close the distance between them in slow, steady steps, becoming more visible by the moment until even the mist could not obscure his youthful features. Lee's heart thumped against his ribs, and he swallowed as he tightened his grip on his swords. Something wasn't right here.

"Answer me, damn it!" he yelled, taking a half-step forward.

The boy paused, pale gold eyes locking with pale gold. Lee felt his blood go cold, even as all the air seemed to vanish from his lungs. It couldn't be. There was just no way.

"What is this?" he whispered, backing away in horror. "Who—who are you?"

"She told you not to forget," the boy said in a voice that sounded at once distant and piercingly close. "She told you to never forget who you are."

Lee shook his head and backed up another step, feeling like his heart was about to leap out of his throat. He'd seen this boy before in his memories: a boy with dark hair and pale skin; a boy who wore red robes with black sashes of the finest quality, and whose irises were a unique shade of pale gold. A boy who had somehow become scarred and alone, hiding behind a blue mask to cover up what he did not know.

"She told you not to forget," the boy repeated, still in that faraway but piercing voice. "Why did you forget?"

"I don't know," Lee whispered. "I don't know what happened. I don't know anything."

"She told you not to forget."

Lee squeezed his eyes shut. "Please," he begged. "Tell me who I am."

There was no answer. He opened his eyes and saw that the boy—no, his younger _self_—was fading back into the mist.

"No!" Lee shouted, sheathing his swords and running after the figure. "Come back! Please!"

His heart pounded as he ran, but his past self did not wait for him and soon Lee was just stumbling alone through the fog, tripping over tree roots and grazing his palms on sharp rocks. A voice whispered to him that he needed to calm down before he hurt himself, but Lee was beyond reasoning now. He had to find that boy again; he had to know the truth.

Suddenly, his foot hooked on something hard and he fell flat on his face, landing with a splash in the boggy water. Trembling, he curled his fingers into the mud, pushing himself to his knees. The fog wasn't as thick in this part of the swamp, and a glint of moonlight managed to slip through the canopy overhead, making the water he was kneeling in glow with a silver light. On the surface, Lee could see the faint outline of his mask—blue and white swirls forming a demonic grin. This was the face of the Blue Spirit, but it was not his face. It was not his identity.

"Who am I?" Lee whispered.

His fingers reached for the mask, pulling it away to reveal a young man whose countenance was divided between scarred flesh and smooth, angular features. A young man who was undeniably Fire Nation.

"_She told you not to forget."_

Needles of pain pierced his mind, whispering of forgotten truths and a woman with dark hair and amber eyes. His mother.

"_Please, my love. Listen to me. Everything I've done, I've done to protect you."_

"_No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."_

"_Never forget."_

Lee let the mask slip from his fingers. In his mind, he could still see the images flashing before his eyes—still hear the snatches of conversation. The memories tortured and soothed him, drawing him into a world of pain and fire; a world of love, loss and regret, but they were still just fragments. They were always just fragments, blurred and skewed as his own identity, and now they were coming faster, like lightning dancing through his thoughts. Now he was trembling and clutching his head, trying to make it stop, because it was too much, too fast, and he was just in so much pain.

"_The boy is weak. He was lucky to even be born."_

Lee bit down on his lip, drawing blood so that all he could taste was copper and salt. There was a man walking towards him on a stone arena; a man with features similar to his own, except this man's eyes were the colour of rich amber. He mouthed words that Lee could not hear and then raised a fist wreathed in flames. Hot, burning flames of orange that would sear through pale flesh stained with tears—so many tears.

"_Everything is going to be alright, Nephew."_

A shuddery gasp. A broken heartbeat. Then an old man touched his face, not with a burning fist, but with a gentle caress.

"_Everything is going to be alright."_

Lee didn't notice when he hit the ground, limp and with his fingers just touching the edges of his mask. He didn't notice when two men wearing what looked like loincloths made out of leaves knelt down beside him, prodding his side and declaring him still alive. Nor did he notice when they lifted him up and carried him back to their boats, settling him down in one before propelling their vessels further down the swampy river with waterbending. Instead, he saw that same old man in Fire Nation robes leaning over him, telling him that everything was going to be alright.

He saw his uncle.

* * *

Certain sections from this chapter have been based on scenes from the episode 'The Swamp'. Some of the dialogue has also been paraphrased and directly quoted from this episode. As for Zuko's vision, I know some of you might be wondering how he saw an illusion of his younger self, and my reasoning comes back to that 'time is an illusion' line. The swamp showed him something that he has lost from the past; his own identity. I also believe the swamp illusions react to what or who we wish to see the most. Katara saw her mother, Sokka saw Yue, and Aang saw the earthbending teacher he needed to find. Hence, Zuko does not see any members of his family (since he can't really remember them, anyway), but what matters most to him at that point in time, and that is finding his true self.

In other news, I have recently done a full revision of this story, fixing up a few inconsistencies in spelling, etc. However, I have made two major changes:

1) A new scene has been added to chapter two, which features Zuko, his crew, and Iroh sharing his love for tea.

2) The healer's daughter, Chan, has had her name changed to Fei. Despite the fact that it is a common name and can be both for male and females, I understand that some people were having a hard time dealing with this fact since (as I recently discovered) she shared her name with the Fire Nation boy Azula takes a fancy to in 'The Beach'. So changes have been made, and I hope that gets rid of the confusion, etc.


	20. Thin Ice

I'm so sorry for the wait! I just hit an absolute roadblock with this chapter, but hopefully the next one will come easier to me.

* * *

**Thin Ice **

Aang's body was still tingling from where he had connected with the banyan grove tree to discover his missing friends' location. For a moment he had ceased to exist as a single entity; he had felt the life force of the whole swamp pulsing through his body, as if he were not just made of human organs and limbs but also leaves and roots. It had been a strange and wonderful experience, yet there had also been something else: a shadow lurking amongst the rush of energy, like a shiver of the otherworldly caressing his soul. Like a part of him had stepped into the Spirit World.

"_Everything is connected."_

The words had echoed in his mind, but then he had seen the vision of Appa and Momo being captured by a group of men wielding nets, and whatever new epiphany he had been about to make had been replaced with fear and anger. Aang had not wasted another second. After breaking his connection with the tree, he had told the others that they had to hurry, and with that they had all raced off to save their missing companions. As it turned out, however, no rescue attempt was needed. The swampbenders were delighted to find that Katara was also a waterbender—even going so far as to call her 'kin'—and instead of having to do battle, Aang and the others were invited to come back to their village and have dinner.

"Even if we can't have leemo and that fella with the six legs, we got some good possum-chicken and grub that'll do just as well," the swampbender named Tho said with a grin.

"Sounds good to me," Sokka said with a shrug. "Aang, Katara?"

"Food would be nice," Katara agreed, clutching a hand to her rumbling stomach.

Aang nodded, if a little distractedly. There were two boats floating on the water (well, make that one, since he had pretty much destroyed the other), and while he had managed to free Appa and Momo, there was no sign of Lee. Not even a hint. He turned to Tho.

"We're still missing one of our friends. You haven't seen him, have you? He wears a Blue Spirit mask and—"

"Oh, you mean that scarred boy?" Due interjected. "Found'em back yonder. Lifeless as a stuffed catgator, he was, and I said, 'Tho, I think this boy be dead, and—"

"_What_?" Aang exclaimed, taking a step forward, even as the colour drained from his cheeks.

"—and then we realised he was still breathin'," Due continued, causing the airbender to sigh with relief. "So we got Bo to take'em back to the village."

"So he's there now?" Aang demanded, gripping the swampbender by the arm.

"Yes, but—"

"Then let's go!"

Due and Tho exchanged a glance, then just shrugged and told everyone to hop aboard that "big fella with the six legs" so they could follow, since there wasn't enough room on the boat. Once this arrangement was settled, the group took off down the river at a rapid pace, but for Aang it could not be fast enough. His stomach felt like it had twisted itself into one giant knot of worry, for he had not missed the fact that Due had described Lee as that 'scarred boy', and that meant the prince was no longer wearing his mask. Aang didn't even want to consider the implications of what that might mean. It was bad enough just knowing that Lee had been found unconscious.

By the time they reached the village, the airbender was practically bouncing on his feet in his desperation to find the prince. He leapt down from Appa, glancing about the settlement as if he expected Lee to magically appear. Instead, a scattering of huts raised on wooden stilts greeted his vision, like grassy domes that had sprouted up from the earth. There was a blackened patch of dirt in the centre of the village where he assumed a bonfire must usually burn, and around that stood a group of men and women dressed in various bits of green cloth and leaves. Aang would have dismissed the group entirely had he not seen one of the men slip a blue mask over his face and then strut a pose as if to demand of his fellow swamp folk what they thought of his new fashion statement.

"Hey," Sokka said, following the direction of Aang's gaze. "Isn't that—"

"The Blue Spirit's mask?" Katara finished for him.

Aang's cheeks flushed with anger. "What have you done to Lee?" he shouted at the man, raising his staff in a threatening gesture.

"Lee?" the swampbender responded, raising the mask from his face and pursing his lips in confusion. "Oh, you must mean that scarred fella we found while huntin'." He pointed to one of the huts. "He's in there, just—"

But the swampbender never got to finish his sentence. One second Aang was standing there with his staff raised, and then the next he was a blur of orange that was rushing forward to snatch the mask from the gaping man's head before darting inside the hut, too fast for anyone to follow. Aang inhaled sharply as he glanced around the shadowed room, heart thudding against his ribs; then he spotted the boy asleep on a bed of leaves, and he exhaled in relief.

"Lee," Aang said, kneeling down beside the prince and giving him a gentle shake. "Lee, wake up."

The older boy's head lolled to the side, showing only the twisted, scarred part of his face. His eyes remained shut.

Aang's brow creased. "Come on, Lee. Don't do this to me again. You have to snap out of—"

"Everything okay?"

The airbender froze at the sound of Sokka's voice. Heart thumping, he quickly slipped the mask over Lee's face and was just fastening the ties at the back to make sure the disguise would not fall off when both Water Tribe siblings strode fully into the hut. Katara was kneeling beside Aang in an instant, already reaching out for the unconscious boy.

"What happened? Is he hurt?" She paused when she saw the grinning swirl of blue and white that covered the teen's features. "Oh, you put the mask back on him."

Aang bit his lip, lowering his gaze to the ground. "It's just—it's just better this way. He wouldn't want you to see his face."

"Because he's scarred?" Sokka asked, folding his arms and staring at the prone warrior with a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "That's what that swamp guy said, right?"

Aang swallowed. His heart felt like it was going to force itself out of his throat. "I don't know." He forced a shrug. "Maybe."

Katara trailed her fingers over the painted wood. "He can't think that we would care about that, can he?"

Beads of sweat started to form on Aang's forehead. Why did they have to keep asking him about this? He didn't want to lie; he really didn't, and—

There was a soft groan from the bed of leaves. All eyes fixed on the prince, who made another pained noise and then raised a hand to his head, swaying slightly as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Easy there," Katara said, reaching out to steady him.

He shrugged off her touch with a sharp, jerky movement. Something about the reflex made Aang's stomach twist in unease; something that whispered of a boy with a scar, so tense and defensive. Without realising it, Aang was standing and putting some distance between the two of them. Unfortunately, the motion only drew the prince's attention.

"_You_," Lee growled, getting to his feet.

Aang's heart thudded against his ribs, and then Lee was advancing in long, purposeful strides, completely ignoring the Water Tribe siblings.

"What aren't you telling me?" Lee hissed, grabbing the airbender by his collar and shoving him against the wall.

Grey eyes widened. "Lee, please—"

"Tell me the truth!"

Aang swallowed. A sickly fear was turning in his gut, reminding him of all the lies he had been telling, all the truths he had been omitting. He didn't know how to respond; he didn't know if he even _should_ respond, but then a hand clamped down on Lee's shoulder, yanking the teen away from the airbender.

"What is wrong with you?" Sokka demanded. "Have you gone insane?"

Lee made a frustrated sound and pointed an accusing finger at Aang's face. "Ask him if he hasn't been lying to me this whole time! Ask him if he doesn't know the truth about my past!"

Katara stepped forward, reaching out to him with a tentative hand. "Lee, you need to calm down. I know you're upset, but—"

"No," Aang interjected in a small voice. "He's right. I haven't been entirely honest with him."

A strained silence followed this admission. Aang risked a glance at Sokka and saw the boy's surprise and disappointment. It was the map incident all over again, and it made the writhing knot in Aang's stomach give a painful twist, but it was too late to take back his words now. Sucking in a deep breath, he turned to face Katara, though he was careful to avoid Lee's gaze.

"I'm sorry, but could you guys give us a minute?" Aang asked softly. "I need to talk to Lee alone."

"But—"

"Please," Aang said, meeting her eyes.

Katara stared at him for a long moment. She was the only one who had known that Aang had been keeping information from Lee, for it was she who had overheard him talking in the tent that day after the fight in Omashu. He knew that she had not approved of his decision then, and it was clear by the downward tilt of her mouth that she was still unhappy. It was becoming more and more obvious that he was keeping secrets from all of them; that his request was simply another attempt to evade a confrontation. Aang wasn't proud of his behaviour, but just the thought of how his two friends might react if they knew Lee's identity had him grasping for any straw—any chance to keep the truth from them for a little longer. Just a little longer.

"_Gran-Gran always told me that keeping a secret from someone is like walking over thin ice: eventually it's going to crack."_

The warning echoed in his mind as clearly as if Katara had spoken aloud, but he simply gave her a pleading look, begging her to give him more time. Just a little more time, and then he would tell her and Sokka everything.

_Please_, he silently urged.

Katara let out a small breath. "Fine," she said, turning away from Aang. "Come on, Sokka."

"What?" the Water Tribe boy exclaimed, looking from his sister to the airbender. "But—"

"If Aang wants to talk to Lee alone, then we'll let him talk to Lee alone."

Sokka opened his mouth to retort, then just groaned in resignation and followed his sister out of the hut. Aang waited until he was sure they were both out of earshot before turning to face Lee. The older boy had not moved, but his shoulders were hunched in tension, and though Aang could not see the other's expression, he could feel the intensity of those golden eyes. Suddenly, it was very hard to look at the blue mask, let alone stand in the hut with the other boy.

"When were you going to tell me the truth?" Lee asked in a low, bitter voice. "Or did you just hope that my memories wouldn't return so that you wouldn't have to deal with the issue?"

Aang winced and lowered his gaze to the ground. "I didn't mean for things to get this out of control. I was only trying to—"

"Trying to what?" Lee snapped, taking a step forward. "Why would you act like I was your friend when you _knew_ I was your enemy?"

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. "Because I never wanted us to be enemies."

A sharp intake of breath. "What?"

"You saved my life. I couldn't just forget that, and—"

"So you thought you'd _pretend_ I was your ally?"

"No, no!" Aang exclaimed, moving his hands in a gesture of denial. "It wasn't like that at all. You actually did help me a few times, and I thought we were coming to an understanding, but then—"

He trailed off, remembering what had happened at the North Pole. Remembering how furious and unforgiving the prince had been.

"But what?" Lee prompted, clenching his hands into fists. "Tell me!"

Aang just shook his head. He didn't know how to explain—didn't even want to explain, for he knew it would be the end of their tentative friendship. So many things had gone wrong at the North Pole. Just thinking about that day made fresh bruises swell on his heart, painful and throbbing. He didn't want to relive it, and he was just so worried. It was obvious that 'Lee' hadn't regained all of his memories yet. What if Aang just made things worse by being honest? What if it wasn't even necessary? The ice was cracking all around him now—he could see that—but maybe there was a chance to salvage the mess. Maybe there was still a way to fix this problem without having everyone hate him.

Without _Zuko_ hating him.

Lee made a frustrated sound at Aang's silence and turned the other way. "Just tell me the truth, Avatar," he said flatly. "It can't be any worse than what my memories have already shown me."

Aang perked up at that, staring at the older boy in curiosity. "What did they show you?"

Some of the anger seemed to drain out of Lee's body, and his shoulders slumped forward as he gazed down at his hands. "I—I think I saw my home. It was in the Fire Nation, and there was a woman there. My mother. She took care of me, but then—then she was gone, and there was this man who—" He struggled for a moment and a shudder went through his body, even as he reached up to touch the mask that covered his face, directly where Aang knew the scar would be.

Frowning, Aang opened his mouth to ask if the older boy was okay, but the prince just took a deep breath and continued.

"I was banished," Lee said in a low voice, speaking quickly now. "I don't know why, but I had to leave. I travelled on a ship with my uncle, and I was searching for something—you, I think—but then the ship got blown up, and after that I guess I just—" He gave a twitchy sort of shrug.

"Lost your memories," Aang finished for him.

Silence stretched between them, tense and almost tangible. Lee glanced at the airbender through the slits of his mask, his hands trembling slightly.

"What aren't you telling me, Avatar?" he repeated in a hoarse voice. "I know there is more to this than what my memories have shown me."

Aang bit down on his lip, dropping his gaze to his feet. "I don't know what to say."

"How about the truth," Lee suggested dryly. "You owe me that much."

Aang shook his head. "You don't understand. I was never trying to hurt you. I—I just wanted to—"

"Enough!" Lee cried, slamming his fist against the wall. "I don't care what you were trying to do. Just stop skirting the issue for once in your life and tell me what you know about my past! Why was I searching for you? Do you know my real name? Do you know who I was before I became the Blue Spirit?" He stepped forward, grabbing Aang by the shoulders. "Tell me!"

The airbender just shook his head again and continued to stare at the ground, feeling a burning lump choke his throat. He could hear Lee's harsh breathing, feel the bruising fingers digging into his bones, but it was all a blur to his mind. He was just so confused, so trapped, so unbearably sad. All he had to do was tell the truth, but it was the truth that would destroy everything he had hoped to gain: understanding, trust, friendship.

Lee straightened to his full height, letting his hands slip away from Aang's shoulders. "I don't believe this," he said with a bitter laugh. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"You don't know what you're asking of me," Aang whispered, still not raising his face. "You don't know what this would mean for you—for all of us."

"It's my life!" Lee growled. "You don't have the right to deny me that knowledge!"

With that, the prince wrenched the mask away from his face and threw it on the ground. Aang's eyes widened as he saw the grinning mask clatter into view, disturbing some of the scattered leaves until it stopped at his feet.

"What are you doing?" Aang asked, looking up at the older boy—the scruffy-haired boy, whose scar was now displayed for all to see.

"I've had enough," Lee said grimly. "No more lies. No more pretend. If you won't tell me who I am, then maybe someone else will."

"No, wait!" Aang cried, clutching at the older boy's arm to stop him from leaving. "You don't know what you're doing! You don't know the danger you'll be putting yourself in!"

"Then tell me!" Lee retorted, wrenching his arm free.

Aang blinked away the sting of tears. "I can't."

"Then I'm going."

"No!" Aang lurched forward again, gripping one of Lee's hands in both of his own. "Please, just wait. Just give me more time."

"More time for what?" Lee snarled. "So you can come up with another lie?"

"That isn't—I'm not—" Aang gave a despairing sigh and let go of the other boy. "Look, pretty much everyone in the Earth Kingdom sees you as an enemy, and that includes Sokka and Katara. If you go out there, it might—they might—"

"Try to kill me?" Lee suggested.

Aang swallowed. "Maybe, but they might not if I can talk to them first."

Lee raised his eyebrow. "Right, and I suppose I'm just supposed to be content and wait until you're ready to be honest with me while you try to smooth things over with your friends."

"Exactly!" Aang said, relieved that the prince was finally catching on.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But—"

"I'm not an idiot, Avatar," Lee said bluntly. "I won't let you trick me into following you around again."

"I'm not trying to trick you! I'm just—" Aang groaned and clutched his hands to his head. "Look, I know I can make this work. Please, just trust me. Just give me more time, and I promise I'll tell you everything I know. Just let me get us all out of the swamp first."

Lee narrowed his eyes. "Why should I trust you? You haven't exactly been honest with me so far."

"Maybe I shouldn't have pretended that I didn't know more about your identity," Aang admitted, "but I'm trying to make things right now. I just need more time." He knelt down and picked up the blue mask from the floor, then offered it to the older boy. "Just give me a chance. _Please_."

Lee stared at him for a long moment, then just sighed and slipped the mask back over his face. Not bothering to spare a glance for the younger boy, he then strode out of the hut without a further word. Aang tried to ignore the bitter taste that filled his mouth. He'd got what he wanted—he'd got more time—but he knew the ice under his feet had already cracked. The question now was whether he would simply drown in his lies or if he would manage to make it back to the surface.

Somehow, he already felt like he was sinking.

**oOo**

The bonfire flared brightly against the night sky, illuminating the group huddled around it with an orange glow. It should have been a cosy scene—a friendly scene—but a whisper of tension lingered between Aang and his travelling companions, making it impossible for any of them to truly relax. Lee was the most reserved, sitting apart from the rest of them in the shadows. The white paint on his mask flickered oddly in the firelight, but he didn't say a word, nor did he bother to eat any of the food. Aang frowned and stared down at his own meal (roasted bug on a stick). He sighed and handed the 'food' to Momo, who ate the crunchy insect happily. Apparently, swamp people didn't make meals that were vegetarian friendly. It was all possum-chicken and oversized bugs.

Aang repressed another sigh and rested his chin on his hands, watching the flames twist and dance. Dimly, he was aware of Katara and Sokka talking to the swamp folk about the South Pole and different styles of waterbending. He was about to tune the conversation out entirely when the siblings moved on to discussing whether anything strange had been happening in the swamp.

"What about our visions?" Katara asked.

"I told you," Sokka responded. "We were hungry." He held up his half-eaten insect. "I'm eating a giant bug!"

"But what about when the tree showed me where Appa and Momo were?" Aang asked, curious to know what the logic-driven boy would think.

Sokka waved his hand airily. "That's Avatar stuff. That doesn't count." He glanced at Huu. "The only thing I can't figure out is how you made that tornado that sucked us down."

Huu shook his head. "I can't do anything like that. I just bend the water in the plants."

"It was an airbender."

Everyone turned to look at Lee, who had stood up from his spot in the shadows and was now walking towards them.

"That's not possible," Sokka said, casting a cautious look at Aang. "The airbenders were all wiped out. Aang is the last one."

Lee folded his arms across his chest. "That tornado came out of nowhere, and we all saw the way it moved. It _followed_ us, even though we sped up and flew away from its likely path. Only an airbender can do that."

Aang swallowed, conscious of the way his heart pounded like a frantic drum in his chest. "Do you think it's possible? Do you think there could be more airbenders?"

The prince shrugged. "It's the only logical explanation."

Huu rubbed his chin. "I don't know about there bein' any airbenders in the swamp, but there is somethin' you might want to see."

Intrigued, the four travelling companions, along with Momo, followed the swampbender back to the banyan grove tree's trunk. Instead of going up to the surface, like they had before, he took them down into a tunnel hidden beneath the bared roots. Aang gasped when he saw the stone door carved into the wood and surrounding dirt; its surface was bare except for three tubes that connected to two horn-like shapes at the end. All it needed was the symbol of the Air Nomads and it would be identical to the doors he had seen in the Southern and Northern Air Temples.

"What is this?" Aang whispered, staring at Huu through wide, grey eyes.

Huu tapped a hand against the stone. "There are lots of stories about this here door. Some say that, about a hundred years ago, some people came to the swamp seekin' refuge and made a home for themselves beyond this wall. Others say this is the door to the Spirit World." He shrugged. "All I know is that this here is the heart of the banyan grove tree and there don't be anyone in our tribe who can make material like this." He tapped the stone again.

"Can you open it?" Katara asked Aang in a hushed voice, also recognising the device that controlled the lock.

Aang took a step forward. "There's only one way to find out."

Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled, pushing out with his hands to create two gusts of wind that shot straight into the horns. A loud humming sound echoed around them as the air rushed through the tubes, like the drone of a hundred voices, and it only got louder as the three locks were released from the pressure. Then the stone started to part, grating and groaning as it revealed a darkened room, and overwhelming them with the musty scent of the forgotten. Aang coughed and took another step forward, then hesitated. What if there was nothing in there? What if there was? He didn't know how to feel about either situation.

Katara slipped her hand in his, telling him in a wordless gesture that she would be right there with him. Suddenly bolstered, he took in another deep breath and, hand-in-hand, they walked into the cave. Sokka followed closely behind, carrying a flaming torch for light, while Lee, Momo and Huu trailed at the rear. No one said a word, conscious of the significance of what they were doing. This could be the last Air Nomad sanctuary in the world; perhaps their only chance to find another airbender, and it was—

"Empty," Aang said in flat voice, releasing Katara's hand and staring around the room. "There's no one here. Just abandoned beds and Air Nomad robes."

Katara pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Aang."

The younger boy barely returned the gesture. It was the Southern Air Temple all over again, and it just made him feel dead inside.

Sokka swept the torch around, letting the light reach right into the corners. "Doesn't look like anyone has been here for a long ti—hey, a chest!"

Aang and Katara exchanged a hopeful glance and then rushed after the Water Tribe boy, who was now kneeling in front of the box with Momo chirruping at his side. Sokka thrust the torch at his sister, who helpfully took it from him, and then they watched as the boy tugged at the lid. And tugged. And then finally resorted to clamping it between his knees and pulling with all his might.

"Um, I think it's locked," Katara observed.

"I know that!" Sokka retorted, panting and slumping down on his backside. "I was just seeing if I could get it open!"

"Maybe there's a key around here somewhere," Aang muttered, and immediately snatched the torch from Katara and began to search the cave.

Sokka rested his elbows on the box, watching the airbender's progress. "It'll be small. Most likely brass, like the lock."

Aang nodded and continued hunting; however, even after he had searched every nook and cranny, as well as every robe and bit of cloth, he couldn't find any sign of the key.

"Monkeyfeathers!" he cursed, swinging back around to face the others. "What are we going to do?"

Katara folded her arms, pursing her lips in thought. "We could always try breaking it open."

"Right!" Sokka exclaimed, and raised the box to crack it against the ground.

Lee stepped forward from where he had been watching beside Huu. "Wait, I think I have an idea."

Aang chewed on his lip as the prince knelt down and took the box from Sokka. For a wild moment, Aang wondered if Lee was going to firebend—not that the thought bothered him so much just then if it meant opening the chest—but instead Lee pulled a dagger out from his boot and slid the tip into the keyhole.

"Of course!" Sokka exclaimed, smacking his palm against his forehead. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Lee said nothing and just continued to wiggle the blade around until there was a small click. Aang held his breath as the lid was lifted, revealing—

"Scrolls," Katara said softly, peering over her brother's shoulder for a better look. "It's a box of scrolls."

"I was kind of hoping for treasure," Sokka mumbled, looking a bit disappointed.

Katara narrowed her eyes at him, but her brother just gave a shrug.

"What? Don't deny that you weren't thinking it as well."

Aang didn't see Katara's reaction, as just then Lee held the chest out to him, presenting it on bended knee as if it really were some grand offering to a king. Lee didn't say anything, but then he didn't need to. Despite everything that had happened between them earlier that day, both recognised the sacredness of this moment.

Heart quickening, Aang handed the torch back to Katara and then reached into the box to pull out the scrolls. They were thin and bound together with an orange ribbon, but being sealed away in the chest had stopped the rice paper from decaying and crumbling apart. Whatever was written on this legacy of the Air Nomads would still be legible. His hand trembled slightly as he undid the tie and unfurled one of the scrolls.

"I need more light," Aang whispered.

Katara moved closer with the torch, as did everyone else. Even Huu and Momo seemed curious to know what the scrolls had to say; though, judging by the creases on each of their brows, it was unlikely that either could understand the characters that had been drawn onto the paper in graceful strokes of ink. Not that Aang paid much attention to the others. The moment he had started to read what turned out to be a personal record of an Air Nomad named Tenzin, it was as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. He read about how Tenzin and a group of Air Nomads had heard rumours that the Fire Nation was going to attack on the day of the comet; how they fled with their young airbenders in training, knowing that they stood no chance against such a force.

"_It was for the children,"_ Tenzin wrote. _"I couldn't just let them die, even though it pained me to abandon my brothers and sisters in the temples. In these little ones was our hope for the future—the hope of all Air Nomads. They had to survive."_

Aang felt something prickle at his eyes, and for a moment the characters blurred in and out of focus. He wiped away his tears with an impatient rub of his hand and then continued to read. He learned that Tenzin eventually took his group of refugees to the swamp, where they thought the Fire Nation army wouldn't think to look for them. The swamp people welcomed them with open arms; however, just in case the firebenders should come searching, the Air Nomads built a home at the base of the banyan grove tree, hoping that the hallowed ground would give them further protection.

"_But it was all for nothing,"_ Tenzin wrote. _"We are people of freedom and spirit. We were not meant to be like the badgermoles who burrow deep into the ground, content to be shut away and live in darkness." _

"No," Aang whispered as he reached the end of the account, feeling the bile rise in his throat.

"What?" Sokka asked. "What do the scrolls say?"

"They lost their bending," Aang answered in a hoarse voice, but to him it sounded like someone else was speaking. "Every one of them. Even the children. Their bending just vanished."

"But how?" Katara asked, taking the scrolls from Aang and scanning the lines. "How can someone just lose their bending? I know that girl in pink managed to stop mine for a while, but it still came back."

"Airbenders have built their lives upon the values of freedom," Aang explained. "The design of the temples; the way we love the skies because it has no boundaries. Freedom is everything to us. It's who we are. It's what—"

"Fuels your bending," Lee said softly.

Aang nodded. "So when the Air Nomads were forced into hiding and could no longer fly or bend like they used to, it crushed their spirits. It—"

"Made them lose their ability to bend," Sokka finished in a grim voice.

Katara wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "That's awful. To lose your bending; it would be like losing a part of yourself."

Aang stared around the small cave, wondering how it must have felt for the group of Air Nomads to be trapped within these four walls and slowly feel their bending get sucked away. He wondered if that was why they had ultimately decided to give up the Air Nomad way of life, choosing instead to become part of the Swamp Tribe or leaving to make a new life for themselves in other parts of the Earth Kingdom. They must have been desperate for any kind of freedom, but it still wouldn't have been enough. None of it would have been enough, because there were no sky bison to ride, and no winds to carry them high above the clouds.

Something hot rolled down Aang's cheek, and it was a moment before he realised that he was crying again. Because now he knew that he was truly alone. Even if there were other Air Nomads out there, or even just descendents of the surviving airbender children, they would not be able to bend; they would no longer understand, because they had all lost their spirit. The Fire Nation had indeed destroyed them all, whether through fire or the slow death of suffocation and repression.

"This is a tragic end indeed," Huu observed in his slow, calming voice. "I never knew."

"None of us knew," Aang responded hollowly. "I thought—I had hoped—"

"We know, Aang," Katara murmured, hugging him close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sokka wrapped his arm around both of them, completing the circle. Even Momo joined in, tucking himself around Aang's neck like a scarf. Lee, however, just folded his arms across his chest and stared at the scrolls.

"I don't understand," he muttered. "If there are no airbenders left, then who made that tornado?"

Aang pulled away from his friends, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I think I know. It's like Huu said—" he gave a nod to the swampbender "—everything is connected."

Sokka scratched his chin. "Come again?"

"Time and death are just illusions," Huu said with a placid smile. "We all share the same roots, just like how—"

"The swamp started from a single banyan tree," Sokka interjected. "Yeah, yeah, we've heard all this before. That still doesn't tell me what Aang meant." He narrowed his eyes. "And please don't tell me that the tree has learnt to airbend because of the Air Nomads who used to live here, because I think my brain just might implode even trying to comprehend how that works."

Aang couldn't help but laugh, despite the ache that continued to bruise his heart. "Not exactly, Sokka. What I meant was, even though we're all connected in some way, the connection goes even deeper with the banyan grove tree. I can't believe I didn't realise it sooner, because I got the same feeling when I stepped into the Spirit Oasis and looked into the water with the circling koi fish."

Lee gave a twitch, but it was Katara who spoke.

"What about the Spirit Oasis?" she asked. "And what does that have to do with the swamp?"

"This isn't just a really big tree," Aang responded. "It's a portal to the Spirit World—perhaps the very first to be created. People feel closer to those who have died here because the spirits _are_ closer."

Sokka rubbed the base of his neck. "So … does that mean the tree learnt to airbend?"

Huu stepped forward. "I think you'll find it was the spirits of the Air Nomads usin' what power they have left to summon your friend here to the banyan grove tree," he said gently. "I believe they wanted the Avatar to find this place, and to help him find an earthbendin' teacher."

"He's right, you know," a much older voice murmured in Aang's ear.

The airbender turned, almost stumbling backwards as he saw the old man standing beside him, looking very blue and transparent. "Avatar Roku!" he exclaimed.

The others shot Aang a surprised glance, but—

"They can't see or hear me," Roku explained, while Sokka and Katara proceeded to ask Aang what he was talking about. "The divide between the two worlds might be at its thinnest here, but I still cannot make myself physically known to anyone but the Avatar except on the day of a solstice."

"Oh."

Roku smiled, though the expression was tinged with sadness. "I know it has hurt you to see this place, Aang. You were hoping that you would find more airbenders here, weren't you?"

Aang's shoulders slumped. "Yes," he admitted, slipping into the silent form of his spirit self. "I saw what had happened at the Southern and Northern Air Temples; I knew that everyone was calling me the last airbender, but I still—I just—" his voice cracked a little. "The world is so big, Roku. I was so certain that some of them had to have escaped."

"And so they did," Roku responded, "but those who were meant to fly cannot thrive in a small cage."

"I know," Aang mumbled, staring down at his feet. "I read Tenzin's scrolls. I know they lost their ability to bend while trying to hide from the Fire Nation."

"Then you will understand why the spirits of the Air Nomads summoned you here; why they showed you a vision of the girl who will become your earthbending teacher."

Aang shook his head. He could only guess, but he wasn't certain.

"Balance, Aang," Roku stated, giving him a much fuller smile. "That is the key. By defeating the Fire Lord, you will restore balance to the world. Why do you think there have been no new airbenders born in the last hundred years? Because such a power cannot exist in a world that allows no true freedom." He placed his hand on Aang's shoulder. "But _you_ can change that."

Aang's eyes glistened with hope—or maybe it was more tears; he didn't know, but he had finally caught on to what Roku was trying to tell him; what Tenzin and the other Air Nomads had tried to tell him by bringing him to their old sanctuary.

"If I defeat the Fire Lord," he said quietly, "new airbenders will start to be born, won't they?"

Roku nodded. "There may even be people in the world right now who have the ability hidden dormant inside them, but first you must restore balance to the world. You must master the elements and defeat the Fire Lord before the comet arrives. It is the only way."

Aang opened his eyes, joining with his own body and letting the transparent form of his past life fade away. "I understand," he said aloud.

Sokka stared at the airbender with his mouth hanging open. "Uh, what just happened? You said Avatar Roku's name and then you went all glowy."

Aang's mouth curved into a faint smile. "It's nothing. I just finally got the message, that's all."

And this time he would not abandon his people. He would not let himself be the last airbender.

**oOo**

Saying goodbye to the swamp folk turned out to be harder than Aang expected. There were many, like Huu, who had grey eyes; people who could be descendants of the Air Nomads who had chosen to live in the swamp, even though their mannerisms and attire suggested otherwise. Yet even as Huu invited Aang and the others to stay for the night, the young airbender knew that they had to keep moving. For one thing, he was getting really hungry; for another, it just felt like the weight of the dead Air Nomads was pressing down on him the longer he stayed, urging him to leave and search for the girl he saw in his vision.

So he and his companions once more piled on top of Appa, and with a soft "yip, yip" they were taking off into the sky, leaving the swamp and its truths and illusions behind. Katara and Sokka quickly settled into their usual routine of light teasing and conversation, but Aang noticed that Lee had once more become distant, retreating into his corner on the saddle and not saying a word to anyone. The sanctuary might have soothed some of Aang's troubles, even though it had also hurt to learn that he was truly alone, but it had not helped Lee. There was only one thing that could help Lee.

"_It's my life! You don't have the right to deny me that knowledge!"_

Aang hunched into himself, turning his back on the older boy as if, by doing so, he could somehow block out the voice that hissed in his mind. He would tell Lee the truth. Just not yet. So much had already happened, and he still hadn't figured out what he was going to say to Sokka and Katara. No, it was best just to wait. Maybe later he could talk to them. First he just needed to find a place for them to camp for the night—and some vegetarian friendly food.

_I just need more time. Just a little more time._

He was still repeating the mantra to himself when he curled up in the tent beside Katara and drifted off to sleep.

**oOo**

Sokka was not known for being a light sleeper. Once his eyes had shut and the snores started, he was likely to stay that way until someone prodded him with a stick or yelled in his ear. As such, the Water Tribe boy was most disgruntled when his eyelashes gave a flutter and he found himself staring up at the darkened canvas of their tent, listening to his sister and Aang breathe. So much for getting a good night's rest away from the croaking noisiness of the swamp.

He sat up in his sleeping bag, wondering if Momo had jumped on his stomach or tried reaching into his mouth again. A quick survey of the tent revealed the lemur tucked up like a fuzzy ball with ears not far from the airbender, which meant that it was something else that had woken Sokka. That was when he noticed that Lee's bag and blanket were gone.

Frowning, he got quietly to his feet and made his way out of the tent. He spotted the masked warrior sitting by the smouldering embers of the campfire, examining something in his hand. A closer look showed the white shimmer of a blade glinting in the moonlight. It was the dagger Lee had used to open the chest.

"That's a nice dagger," Sokka observed, taking a seat next to the other boy.

"It was a gift from my uncle," Lee said softly, not raising his head. "It's the only thing I really have left from my past."

"Can I have a look?"

Lee handed it over without a word, barely sparing a glance at Sokka. He seemed content to just stare at the embers, lost in his own thoughts. A crease formed on Sokka's brow, but instead of pestering the other boy to explain what was bothering him, Sokka simply glanced at the dagger now resting on his palms. It was beautifully crafted, with a black hilt that only emphasised the pearl-like colour of the blade. He ran his finger over the characters that had been etched on either side.

"Made in Earth Kingdom, huh?" Sokka said with a chuckle. "Someone's idea of a joke?"

Lee just shrugged. "I don't think I ever really paid much attention to that inscription."

"No," Sokka mused, flipping the blade over. "You do seem more of the 'never give up without a fight' type."

Lee just made a noncommittal sound. It was obvious that he was thinking about other things. Sokka stared at him for a moment, wondering if he should say something more; then he just repressed a sigh and handed the dagger back to the other boy before standing up and stretching his arms with a yawn. There was no point trying to have a conversation with someone who clearly didn't feel like talking, even if Sokka did have many questions that needed answers. It wasn't as if Aang had bothered to tell them anything after that little incident in the hut.

"I'm heading back to bed," Sokka said, smothering another yawn. "Wake one of us up when you get tired, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Sokka gave a forced smile and then walked back to the tent, glad to escape the awkward tête-à-tête. He'd definitely leave the heart-to-hearts to Katara. As he settled back in his sleeping bag, however, it occurred to him that he had forgot to ask why Lee had packed up all of his belongings.

_Oh, well_, Sokka thought, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. _Maybe he's just paranoid that Momo will steal his stuff or something. _

With that dismissive thought, the Water Tribe boy soon fell fast asleep. No one ever did get woken up to replace Lee for watch duty.

**oOo**

Aang was worried. There was no sign of Lee. Katara said that she hadn't seen him all morning, and a quick search of the tent revealed that the boy's bag had gone missing as well. However, it was Sokka who delivered the final blow. He told them about the conversation he'd had with Lee the previous night, and how he had thought it odd at the time that the other boy had packed up his things. He should have realised that Lee was planning on leaving.

Something cold and heavy settled in Aang's stomach, as if an invisible stone had been shoved down his throat. He understood now that Lee had never planned on staying. The prince had taken back the mask, but it wasn't because he had wanted to give Aang another chance. No, Lee had meant what he had said that day in the hut.

"_No more lies. No more pretend. If you won't tell me who I am, then maybe someone else will."_

Aang let out a small breath. He had really outdone himself this time. He had evaded telling the truth for so long that now there was nothing to tell. Because Lee—no, _Zuko_—was gone, and in his heart Aang knew that the prince would not be coming back.

"What should we do?" Katara asked. "Do you think we should look for him?"

"No," Aang said softly, and it broke his heart to say the words. "If Lee doesn't want to be found, he won't be found."

It was perhaps the most crushing realisation about this situation. Amnesia or not, Zuko knew Aang too well. He would make sure that they could not follow, and in that the airbender knew that they had no choice but to keep moving forward without their masked companion. Katara's Gran-Gran had been right. The ice had cracked; there could be no going back. All Aang could do now was hope that their paths would meet again; that he would get that second chance he had wasted with his lies. Maybe it was a foolish hope after everything that had happened, but Aang refused to give up.

He would never give up on Zuko.

* * *

Some of the dialogue in that scene where they're sitting around the bonfire has been directly quoted and paraphrased from the episode 'The Swamp'. The rest is my theory for how that tornado came about and why the airbenders just seemed to vanish entirely, since I find it difficult to believe that the Fire Nation managed to track down every single airbender, considering the race is nomadic and wouldn't exactly be living in the temples all the time. I also just felt that it doesn't make sense that no new airbenders were born in the last hundred years, whether bending is a genetic thing or not.

Make of that what you will (as I know it disregards LoK), but this is how I'm rolling in this story. ^_~


End file.
